Predator
by skca54
Summary: Jamie Carter is eight-years-old and he was part of the recently destroyed Urban Predator program that was operated by the CIA and ultimately terminated by Fusion. Jamie has been abandoned by the CIA and he must fend for himself. Part of my Forsaken Universe.
1. Kidnap

**Author's Note:** This will be my twenty-seventh (published) story. The story is part of my Kick-Ass **Forsaken** universe and will use characters and events from that story. This story is a continuation of **Chapter 30: Epilogue** from my story **The Fusion Ultimatum** and follows James Carter as he seeks to regain his life.

 ** _Synopsis:_** _James Carter is eight-years-old and he was part way through Phase 2 of the_ Urban Predator _program that was operated by the CIA and ultimately terminated by_ Fusion _. See my story_ **Forsaken** , **Chapter 243: Urban Predator** _and my story_ **The Fusion Ultimatum** _. At the end of that story, in_ **Chapter 30: Epilogue** _, James was abandoned by the CIA and he must fend for himself._

* * *

 ** _Sunday, May 22nd, 2016_**

 ** _Leeds, United Kingdom_**

The echo of the slamming door was still reverberating around the Safehouse as my mind began to plan my next move.

Nothing happened in my life, without a plan. That was a lesson that had been literally kicked into us – plan everything, miss nothing. Despite my tender age of eight-years-old, I was not the average boy of the that age – I had killed before my seventh birthday, for one. I could strip down, reassemble, and accurately fire the H&K P30SK Compact pistol that lay a few inches from my right hand, for another. There was much more that I could do too – I would need each and every skill to survive.

I was not in an alien country, quite the opposite; I was in the country of my birth. Unlike when I had been taken.

* * *

 ** _September 18th, 2013_**

 ** _Atlanta, USA  
Marriott Hotel_**

"Steph?"

"I'm here, Jamie."

"What are we doing today?"

"Mum and Dad are taking us to see some stuff in the city."

"Where?"

"I think the fish place – you know..."

"We're going to the Georgia Aquarium," Mum interrupted.

"Cool!" I exclaimed. "I want pancakes for breakfast..."

"You _always_ want pancakes, Jamie!" Steph replied with a laugh.

"I'm almost six; I'm a growing boy..."

"You've still got two weeks to go, little brother!"

* * *

 ** _The Present  
Sunday, May 22nd, 2016_**

 ** _Leeds, United Kingdom_**

The Safehouse could no longer be considered 'safe' – so really it was just a house.

With my adult supervision gone, and I assumed the security and support, I had to decide on staying or leaving. I had money, but nobody – except maybe a paedophile – would help a boy as young as I was to find alternative accommodation. I could turn myself in as a homeless child and hope they placed me in a foster home – it was an option. I figured that I could stay in the house for maybe two or three nights before I began to tempt fate.

I had no idea what would happen to the house without the CIA's protection and involvement. I also had to consider that the CIA may return to 'tidy-up' and that would mean tidying me up too...

* * *

Within an hour, I had the essentials packed, just in case I returned and the place had been gutted.

My first task was to find some emergency accommodation – preferably two places as a minimum. Currently, I was in north-central Leeds, near Chapel Allerton. The first place to visit, was Menston, a short train ride to the northwest. I had a pass that allowed me free travel around the area and I had often used it to scope out possible escape routes and such like.

I must have been tired as I soon dozed off to the gentle rocking of the train carriage.

* * *

 ** _September 18th, 2013  
That afternoon_**

 ** _Georgia Aquarium  
Atlanta, USA_**

The place was brilliant and I was really eager to see _everything_!

Steph seemed just as excited to be there. I gripped her hand tightly so we would not get separated in the crowds. I was wide-eyed with awe as we wondered around the place. I had never seen so many fish. Steph was really excited too and I got the impression that Mum and Dad were getting more than a little annoyed with our almost constant, 'look at this' and 'oh, wow, you must see that'.

It was the best holiday that I had ever had and I could not have been happier than I was at that very moment. The place was very busy with people _everywhere_. There was a slot of noise, too – mainly kids as the yelled at the fish. My favourite was the sharks – I liked sharks, I liked that they were predators. It was really awesome to kill the way sharks did; they really were the ultimate predator.

By the afternoon, I was getting really tired and I was annoying Steph to the point where she was being mean to me. We began to snipe at each other and Dad was getting very angry with our behaviour. It was almost time to leave and we were headed back to the carpark when I heard Stephanie scream and as I turned, I saw my big sister with a gloved hand over her mouth. Her eyes were wild with fear.

I looked around for Mum and Dad – I began to panic when I could not see them anywhere.

* * *

 ** _The Present  
Sunday, May 22nd, 2016_**

 ** _Leeds, United Kingdom_**

The train jerked to a stop and I jerked awake.

I was sweating from the nightmare. The same nightmare that I had endured almost every night since I had been taken. I looked out the window and jumped up as I read the sign 'MENSTON' and ran to the doorway where the conductor smiled at me and chuckled as I jumped out onto the platform.

As I left the station, I turned left and walked a couple of hundred yards before I turned right and then headed up a long road. About a third of a mile later, I found myself at a roundabout. There ahead of me were some gates which were securely locked. Highroyds was a psychiatric hospital which had been abandoned in 2003. The main buildings were derelict and while some of the site had been renovated into flats, the majority had been left to fall apart.

Security was good, but I was a _Predator_ and no security could stop me!

* * *

I wormed my way through the security fence – being small had its benefits...

I had scouted the site out before, twice in fact. I made my way to a certain part which had not shown any signs of recent activity on the past two visits. I checked the tell-tails – a carefully placed rock, a seemingly misplaced piece of wood – things that would need to be moved for somebody to gain entry. As I made my way deeper into the forbidding facility, I found my previous stash of equipment, and it was all accounted for and seemingly untouched.

I was in a sub-basement and apart from my torch, it was in total darkness. My 'stash' consisted of batteries, torches, three pistols with an adequate supply of rounds, some high-energy food and plenty of fresh water. The CIA had no idea that I had scoped the place out and stashed equipment there. I had planned it as a bolthole if the CIA should suddenly turn on me. I was loyal to them, but my training had taught me to distrust everybody – even my sworn masters.

..._...

Okay, I had a base to use. I would spend the next couple of days transferring what I could from the well-equipped Safehouse. Unfortunately, I could only carry what would fit in a pack, and for a lot of the items, under cover, and then on the train. I would need food and plenty of weapons... Once I was settled, I would go and check out my other previously surveyed site which would require a long bus ride to get to.

For the moment, I hopped back onto the Metro and then off at the next stop towards Leeds, which was Guiseley. I was hungry and so, after a short walk, I pushed open the door into McDonalds and I ordered a large Big Mac meal with a vanilla milkshake. As a _Predator_ , I had been trained in a lot of things, but cooking had not been one of them. The Big Mac and vanilla shake was my favourite and it felt comforting to me.

We had been trained to fight alone, but I hated to be alone, even if the company _was_ only a pair of CIA brutes who treated me like shit. Once I had shoved down the burger, fries, and milkshake, I grabbed a hot apple-pie to go and headed back to the station.

* * *

Once back at the Safehouse, I set about packing.

First, I raided the armoury. I had to ignore the M60s, the LAWs, and the Stingers. Instead, I concentrated on what was ' _boy_ -portable'. I grabbed a pair of SIG Sauer P320 Compact pistols, a Walther P22 and two Glock 26 pistols. I threw onto the table the relevant accessories which included holsters, suppressors, cleaning kits and magazines. Next came one SIG Sauer MPX-P and a pair of H&K MP5K submachine guns. I also grabbed magazines, cleaning kits and a standard MPX Accessory Pack. I moved then onto the explosives.

Some C-4 would not go amiss, plus some remote detonators and some det-cord. I grabbed a reasonable selection of grenades: smoke, HE and stun. A pair of Tasers joined the grenades along with several packs of spare cartridges. Finally, I ransacked the ammunition and selected the relevant calibres for my weapons.

It was a tidy haul, worthy of Hit Girl, I thought. Next I would have to shift it all – not an easy job!

* * *

I made myself a dinner of cheese-on-toast with Marmite, that night.

I washed it down with some Pepsi Max and watched about an hour of TV. With that task out of the way, I secured the Safehouse, after having changed the codes to the access doors, and then arranged a pair of M18A1 Claymore mines ready to tear apart anybody who entered the house without _my_ authorisation.

I took a shower before bed and then crawled under my duvet, fully dressed, and with a pistol under my pillow. That was when the nightmares came... They came every night and varied only in ferocity.

I continued where I had left off earlier that day, on the train.

* * *

 ** _September 18th, 2013  
That afternoon_**

 ** _Georgia Aquarium  
Atlanta, USA_**

As I watched, my sister struggled in vain against her captors before she was slapped roughly across the face and she stopped her struggling; a black hood was then pulled over her head. That was when my own last sight of freedom vanished as a similar hood was pulled over my own head.

" _Mummy!_ " I yelled.

..._...

The hood blocked out the light, but not the sound.

I felt myself being picked up by a pair of strong hands. I heard the sound of a car as it stopped nearby and then the sound of a car door as it was opened. I was thrown onto the seat of the car and when I tried to sit up, I felt a hand force me down onto the seat. I was terrified and I was crying.

I heard a scream; it was Steph. She was being forced into the same car and I felt her body against my own – that helped reassure me. As long as I was with Steph, I knew that I would be okay. I was amazed how much I could hear going on all around me. I heard two people talking as they got into the front of the car, then the engine started and we moved off at speed.

We were both squished into the back seat and I felt the movement of the car as it changed direction, several times. I was very aware of my sister sobbing next to me – she was just as scared as I was.

I thought that nothing could ever scare my big sister.

* * *

 ** _The Present  
Sunday, May 22nd, 2016_**

 ** _Leeds, United Kingdom_**

I jerked awake, back in my bed.

As usual, my pillow was soaked with sweat, as was my face and hair. I was also crying and shaking. No one ever came when I awoke screaming, so I calmed myself down and I just stared into the darkness that surrounded me. It was by no means the worst version of the nightmare – my big sister used to tell me that nightmares were generated by Nightmare Moon and that she was just trying her best to scare us, but that each time she failed, she would make the nightmare worse the next time.

I had asked if letting the nightmare scare me would stop her, Steph had replied that being scared would just encourage Nightmare Moon to scare us again. Back when I was five, I was really scared – Steph got into a lot of trouble with Dad for scaring me – and it took many nights for me to learn that nightmares were just a part of life. Now I was eight, I saw the nightmares as a penance for murdering my parents and the big sister that I still loved so much.

I was tired and I soon fell back to a fitful sleep.

* * *

 ** _September 18th, 2013_**

 ** _Atlanta, USA_**

The ride was not short, but not long either.

When we stopped, the men in front talked – they were Americans and they discussed me and Stephanie like we were objects. Then the men opened their doors and climbed out. I heard the door beside me opening and then I was dragged out of the car and I fell down into cold concrete. I screamed. My sister landed almost on top of me where she seized my hand and gripped it tightly.

"I love you, Steph..."

"I love you, too, Jamie... If we ever get separated; I will find you . . . I promise."

I had no idea what was happening as Steph was dragged off me. I could not see anything, but I could hear my sister crying. I could tell that she was only a short distance away, though. My wrists hurt where the plastic ties dug into my skin and I was very scared. Then I heard movement close to me and I felt a sharp pain in my neck and I began to feel sleepy.

I drifted off into blackness.


	2. The Cage

**_September 21st, 2013_**

 ** _An unknown location in the USA_**

They kept us in a cage.

It was more cage than prison cell; at least that was what Steph thought. The walls were not bars, like the cells you had in a prison; they were a tight mesh that I could put my hand through, but nothing more. On one side of the cage, there was a door and on the outside I could see a large padlock. Within the cage, there was only one piece of furniture, a single bed with a clean duvet and a clean sheet, plus a surprisingly clean single pillow – it was not very comfortable, but we could both sleep on it okay.

The only other item in the cage was a bucket in one corner.

"What's that bucket for?" I had asked innocently.

"I have a sneaking idea but I hope I'm wrong, Jamie..."

"I don't understand..."

"You wee . . . in the bucket..."

"Oh... What about...?"

"Yes – that too."

* * *

 ** _The Present  
Monday, May 23rd, 2016_**

 ** _Whitby, United Kingdom_**

The nightmare was as strong as it always was.

The thirteen-year-old girl tossed and turned as the nightmare played out in her mind. Sweat was evident on her face and her pillow was soaked. As she moved in the bed, her pillow moved with her and it was possible to see the butt of an automatic pistol, partially hidden beneath the pillow.

...+...

 **Four weeks previously**

 **Milan, Italy**

 _The girl was running for her life._

 _All around her, there was gunfire. Her fellow Predators were being gunned down mercilessly by those that were supposed to have been training and protecting them. Screaming – it was all that she could hear in between the sound of gunshots. The other kids screamed as they tried in vain to escape the massacre. The girl screamed in shock as a much younger girl, no more than ten, was shot between the eyes by a man with a Glock pistol which was fitted with an extended, twenty-five-round magazine._

 _The man turned his weapon on the girl and she stared down the gapping muzzle – there was a flash..._

...+...

The young girl sat bolt upright in the bed and her grey-blue eyes snapped open. There was a look of fear on her young face and she sunk her head into her hands. She sobbed for several minutes. Once the sobbing eased, she looked over at the cheap LED clock which sat on some equally cheap drawers beside the bed – 6:42 A.M. – she grimaced.

"Oh, fuck!"

The girl scrambled out of the bed and made her way unsteadily over to the attached bathroom. Once she had accomplished the required activities, she washed her hands and headed over to the sideboard below the window where there was a cheap electric kettle. She checked that there was sufficient water present before she flipped the switch to 'ON' and a red neon glowed steadily.

While the kettle boiled, she pulled off her t-shirt and shoved her knickers down to the floor before stepping out of them. She headed back into the bathroom and turned on the pathetic shower. After a very brief, and very unsatisfying, shower to wash off the sweat and then wash her long dirty-blonde hair, she towelled herself off and pulled on a clean black bra and matching knickers before she added a pair of black jeans and a dark blue t-shirt to complete the ensemble.

The crappy kettle finished boiling the water and she made herself a tea without milk – the milk was a little bit too lumpy, so she poured it down the sink. With the usual early morning activities out of the way, the teenage girl pulled on a pair of dark brown hiking boots and a black leather jacket before she headed downstairs and then outside to find some breakfast.

* * *

The B&B served breakfast, but it was shit, so I ate out most mornings.

For the moment, cash was not a big problem. I was able to blend in, as I could mimic the right accent and if necessary, I could sound like a native. I may have been American by birth, but England was like a second home to me. I had spent many years in the country as a young girl . . . before I had been taken when I was just eight-years-old.

My family lived in the USA and so far, the CIA had made sure that I never set foot in my native land. The past few years had been spent in France or England. I was very much alone and I had no real idea of what I was going to do. I had no contacts and no support apparatus that I could trust. I would have to fend for myself with whatever resources I could acquire along the way.

I was a Phase 3 _Predator_ and I intended to use every skill at my disposal to ensure that I reached adulthood.

* * *

 ** _Seventy miles to the southwest  
CIA Safehouse, Leeds_**

As usual, I awoke feeling crappy.

I dragged myself out of bed and pulled off my sweaty clothing. After peeing, I turned on the shower and allowed the hot water to wake me up. Once all of the night's sweat had been washed off, I enjoyed the hot water for a few minutes more before I turned off the shower.

I quickly dried myself and dressed – the house was not all that warm first thing in the morning. Breakfast was three Weetabix with hot milk and a mug of tea. I looked out the window as I sat at the kitchen table and ate my cereal. The day looked crappy as people headed out to work and whatever else they did. As I watched the world move, I ran my plan for the day through my mind.

I would begin to shuttle equipment to what I would call Safehouse H – I figured that I should be able to manage maybe four trips during the day without attracting too much attention. I didn't bother wasting a second on considering the ramifications if I were caught lugging illegal weaponry through West Yorkshire – at least the United Kingdom did not have the death penalty. I would just spend the rest of my natural life in prison having some bastard shove his cock up my arse.

Did I mention that I was always armed when I left the Safehouse? I had my H&K in a holster in the small of my back along with a small knife on my left ankle. I would just have to take my chances that the West Yorkshire Plod, sorry, Police would not choose me for a stop and search or I'd be down the nearest cop shop quick as a flash.

After breakfast, I cleared away my dishes and grabbed the first of the ten backpacks which I had collated the night before. It was heavy and bulky but I managed to lift it onto my back and pull the straps tight to spread the load.

..._...

I trudged my way to the Metro station and caught a train to Menston. Manoeuvring the backpack in the tight confines of the carriage was not easy and at one stage, I heard something clang as the backpack made contact with a seat.

What was in the pack? Oh, yes: two M18A1 Claymore Mines, several pistols, and quite a few rounds of ammunition. I realised that there would be more than a little explaining to do if one of the Claymores went off accidentally . . . for the moment, I made sure that the Claymores were aimed _away_ from me. Otherwise, I sat back to enjoy the ride and I was only interrupted by the conductor as he made his way down the train and I showed him my pass.

I whiled away the time by thinking back to when I still had my sister.

* * *

 ** _September 19th, 2013  
Two days earlier_**

 ** _An unknown location in the USA_**

I had woken up to find myself in a small room.

My sister lay on her side, a few feet away – her wrists and ankles were tied and as I tried to move my own wrists and ankles, I found that I was tied up too. The hoods were gone, which was something. I began to feel so alone and I began to cry – I missed Mummy and I missed Daddy...

I did not have long to wait as soon after I awoke, the door to the room opened and a man walked in. He was tall and he scared me.

"Stop snivelling, you little brat!"

His tone scared me even more as he turned his attentions towards my sleeping sister. He kicked Stephanie in the side.

"Wake up, you little bitch!"

Stephanie came awake with a start and she yelled out in pain as the man then yanked her to her feet by her long blonde hair. He ignored her screams as he pushed her very roughly towards the door and before I knew it, the door was slammed shut. Stephanie was gone. I yelled after her but nobody responded and I began to cry again.

I hated being alone.

..._...

When the door next opened, it was the man again.

"Here's your sister, kid!" He chuckled as he roughly shoved Stephanie back into the room. "Now, it's _your_ turn..."

I was shocked to see that Stephanie no longer wore any clothes – she also had a vivid bruise on her right side, a nasty red mark on her left cheek, and her hair was wet. Stephanie fell to the floor and she sobbed as she shrank into the corner of the room and attempted to cover herself.

I was grabbed and roughly hauled out of the room. The door was slammed as before.

..._...

I was dragged down a short corridor and then pushed into a room. Two people were there, both women. They were not smiling and I felt really scared as they stared down at me.

"Right, you little shit, get out of those clothes..." One woman almost yelled.

I flinched away.

"NOW!" The other woman yelled.

I started to cry again and I soon found myself grabbed be large hands. My clothes were all but ripped off me. I was then slapped around the face and a strong hand held my chin upwards. A face stared down at me.

"You do what you are told, when you are told," the woman yelled. "Do you understand me, you little fuck?"

I stammered a 'yes' before they hit me again and I was shoved under a stream of mildly warm water. I was held there for what seemed like an eternity before I was yanked out and handed a towel. I had never, ever, been treated so callously and I had absolutely no idea what I had done to upset these people and make them treat me the way that they were.

"Stop snivelling and dry yourself off."

I did so and then the towel was ripped away from me. I was taken back to the same room and I was thrust back inside. Stephanie looked really worried and she grabbed me as the door was slammed shut.

We hugged and cried together.

* * *

 ** _The Present  
Monday, May 23rd, 2016_**

 ** _Leeds, United Kingdom_**

 ** _Highroyds, Safehouse H_**

I worked my way inside the Highroyds building and I found a good hiding place for the first backpack.

I set some more tell tails around my stash before I headed back to daylight. After a short but careful look around, I left the site for the walk back to the station and then onto the train to collect another backpack from the Safehouse.

..._...

After a second trip with an equally heavy pack, I was exhausted. 'Only eight more to go!' I thought dejectedly. I was not sure if I could manage it, but I had no choice if I really wanted to be safe. I pushed on – I had been trained to use my stamina to my advantage, so I did; I pushed myself. By lunchtime I regretted my decision, but nevertheless, I had moved the third pack and I decided that it was as good a time as any to have a late, very late, lunch.

It was after three in the afternoon when I bought myself a Big Mac Extra Value Meal. I even found room for a Cadbury McFlurry!

* * *

 ** _September 21st, 2013_**

 ** _An unknown location in the USA_**

They kept us in that room until the following morning.

Neither of us had any way to tell them, except by using the daylight that streamed in the single window. We were both naked and very cold as we shivered through the night without anything to keep us warm. Stephanie was really scared and I could feel her shaking as she sobbed for a large part of the night. I was not much better and many tears were spilled by both of us by the time dawn came.

Dawn also brought more pain.

He door flew open and we were both dragged out of the room. Stephanie screamed and she received a slap across her face for her trouble. I kept my mouth shut after witnessing that... Our next stop was a large white room. Something in my mind told me it was a doctor's room. I recognised some of the items from my own trips to see a doctor.

A tall man appeared. He wore a white coat which told me that he was probably a doctor. We were both weighed and had our height measured. The man made a cursory examination of our bodies, including looking in our mouths and ears. Stephanie fought him and she received a slap on her backside. I tried to help her, but I was slapped myself.

Mercifully, we were then handed clothes – just a white t-shirt and some light grey joggers, but it was better than going around naked. A few minutes later, we were pushed into the cage.

"I'm hungry," I said quietly but firmly.

"Me too," Stephanie added.

The woman who had escorted us to the cage actually smiled – sort of.

"Don't cause any trouble . . . and you will eat."


	3. Urban Predator

**_The Present  
Monday, May 23rd, 2016_**

 ** _Leeds, United Kingdom_**

 ** _McDonalds, Guiseley_**

I never realised that I had fallen asleep.

I awoke to a group of girls giggling at me. I was way more tired than I thought.

"Fuck off, you dirty slappers!" I growled as I sat up.

The torrent of abuse washed over me as I left the restaurant in my wake. I returned to the Safehouse and something told me to shift the final four packs. It was what I called my 'predator' sense.

..._...

I did not have the energy to take them all the way to Highroyds, so I carried each of them, one at a time outside and about two hundred yards down the road. There, in an alleyway was a decrepit Vauxhall Cavalier on an M-plate. It had not moved in years and probably never would again without a large crane.

The owner of the car was a curmudgeonly old man who lived in the house beside the alleyway. I had used his precious twenty-year-old piece of shit as a drop, plenty of times before. I did not have a key but that was not a problem. One of the lessons at 'Predator School', was learning basic automotive skills. I understood that the Cavaliers were so easy to steal that many had up to five keys by the time they were sold – one for the ignition, one for each front door, one for the boot, and one for the fuel cap. Each time the car was broken into, a lock would have to be replaced.

However, there was a much better trick to gain access that did not need a brick, slimjim, or another high-tech tool. I reached into my pocket and retrieved my custom Cavalier key. It was not exactly a key, per se, it was more of a tennis ball cut in half. I placed the open section against the boot lock and smacked it with the palm of my hand. The result? All four doors and the boot unlocked! I placed my four packs into the boot of the hatchback using the tennis ball and I placed tell tails on the car for later retrieval.

After a late dinner, I made the usual preparations before I headed up to bed.

* * *

 ** _September 23rd, 2013_**

 ** _An unknown location in the USA_**

Two days passed without us leaving the cage.

Both of us had tried to avoid using the bucket, but we had no choice. We were slightly embarrassed weeing in front of each other, but only because of the strange arrangements. It was easier for me; I was a boy. It was more difficult for Stephanie to wee as she was a girl and her plumbing was different. The smell was horrible as the bucket had no top.

Our cage was not the only one in the room. I had not paid the other three identical cages much attention until early on the second day when two more kids were quite literally almost thrown into two of the empty cages and then just left to sob.

..._...

We had only eaten once per day – a meagre porridge of sorts – which Steph said that we should eat as we had no idea when the next meal might come. The new kids looked longingly through the wire at us eating. They were being ignored, just as we had been. I felt really guilty eating while they starved, but I knew that I had to keep my strength up for whatever lay before us.

The two kids were both boys and they were around the same age as my sister. The same man that had come for us, came for each boy in turn. They boy was dragged out of this cage screaming and then a short while later he returned, without clothes and with wet hair. That night was not much fun for any of us as the two boys cried for hours. Steph had tried to talk to them but she had been threatened with a beating if she dared to talk to them again.

I did finally doze off with my sister's reassuring arms around me.

* * *

 ** _The Present  
Tuesday, May 24th, 2016_**

 ** _CIA Safehouse, Leeds_**

It was still dark when I came awake.

Instinct had me grasping the butt of the Heckler & Koch P30SK Compact pistol as I tried to figure out what had awoken me. The clock beside my bed showed it was a little after two in the morning – a favourite time for an assault. I sprang out of bed and I instantly went on alert as I heard movement coming from downstairs – I had company.

My eyes were quickly acclimatised to the darkness and I moved forwards very slowly with my pistol held out before me. A short suppressor was fitted to the muzzle – I did not need nor want the nearest West Yorkshire firearms unit turning up on my doorstep. I stopped at the open door of my bedroom and I sensed movement on the stairs. The muzzle of a Beretta M9A3 appeared from the stairs, then a head.

I squeezed the trigger of my H&K twice – two sharp cracks later and the landing needed a fresh coat of paint. The corpse with the destroyed head fell backwards down the stairs.

"Motherfucker!" came an exclamation from below. It was an American accent. It was 'Bob', my ex-handler.

* * *

 ** _October 2nd, 2013_**

 ** _An unknown location in the USA_**

It was my birthday and I was six-years-old.

Only, I had no cause to celebrate. I was alone. In the preceding week, everything had gone badly wrong. We had both been led out of our cage, on the fourth day of being locked up. We were led down a long corridor and then we were pushed into a room and the door was closed behind us.

We were in a bare room. Something about the room scared me. The floor was white tiles and the walls were lined with plastic. There was only a single metal desk bolted to the floor with a metal chair on each side. Before I could look around more, a door at the far end opened and a man entered. He was fat and he scared me.

"My name is Doctor Hirsch and we need to speak with you both – but separately."

I gripped onto my sister's hand even tighter as a large woman entered from the same door as the man. She grabbed a hold of me while the man did the same with Steph. I felt my hand dragged out of my sister's hand despite our best efforts. We were both crying and yelling. Everything was happening so fast. Then we were separated. Stephanie was dragged out of the room and away down the corridor.

" _Jamie!_ "

" _Steph!_ "

That was the last time I saw my sister.

It was also the last time that I felt any hope of escape.

* * *

 ** _The Present  
Tuesday, May 24th, 2016_**

 ** _CIA Safehouse, Leeds_**

I had an ace in the hole.

More exactly an ace buried beneath a loose part of the staircase. I did not dare put my head around the banister to see if anybody were climbing the stairs. If I did, then that would be the end of yours truly, just as it was the end for that poor sap whom I had just shot. I listened – my hearing was very good and I heard a slight crunch on the fourth step. Defending You Safehouse Hint #1: Packet of Walkers Ready Salted sprinkled across a step – a very cheap defensive item at only 55 pence a pack.

I reached down to a small hole in the skirting board a foot away from the stairs and pulled out a small green device which was close to 4-inches long, about 1.5-inches wide, and 3.25-inches in height. A thin wire led from the device and into the wall. I took a deep breath before I called out.

"Okay, okay, I give up."

"Come out you fucking wretch – lucky for you, they want you alive."

That was complete bullshit!

"Bob – you are standing on a mine. You move – boom!"

"You are so full of shit, Jamie."

"Didn't you teach me how to plant a mine on a staircase?"

"Yeah..."

"I'm coming out. I have a Deadman's switch."

"Shouldn't that be dead _boy_ 's switch?"

"Ha, fucking, ha!" I growled as I moved to the top of the staircase. Bob was in _the_ perfect position. "Sorry, _Bob_ , I lied..."

I smiled at the CIA man as I opened my hand to show what I held. Bob's face went white and he made a move towards me.

"Bye, bye, Bob!" I said as I squeezed the M57 Clacker twice.

The man had no time to do anything more as the M4 blasting cap received the charge from the Clacker and detonated the twenty-four ounces of C-4 explosive. The man's head and upper body vaporised as hundreds of 3.2-millimetre steel balls hurtled through at almost four-thousand-feet-per-second. Defending You Safehouse Hint #2: M18 Claymore mine hidden behind a step of a staircase and actuated by an M57 Firing Device or Clacker – a slightly more expensive defensive item at around a hundred quid a set.

"Fuck, yeah!" I yelled as I grabbed my pack and made for the window in my bedroom.

..._...

I fired another M57 Clacker and the entire window frame was destroyed in an instant. I jumped out and slid down the roof of the kitchen. Within a few seconds, I dropped to the ground beside the kitchen window. I saw movement and ducked as the glass crazed over with bullet strikes.

'Ha,' I thought – bullet proof glass!

I ran towards the gate that led into the front garden and I kicked it open – that was how they had gained access and they had not latched the gate behind them. It was time for Jamie Carter to disappear for a short while. I could hear sirens approaching and I knew that whomsoever was still alive would be after me too.

I continued to run, deep into the darkness and into relative safety just as the blue lights of a red fire engine came around the corner at the end of the road.

* * *

 ** _October 16th, 2013_**

 ** _An unknown location in the USA_**

Two weeks had passed since my seven-year-old sister, Stephanie, had vanished.

In that time, I was used for every dirty job that they could find. I emptied buckets of pee and returned clean ones. I never had to clean out the dirtier buckets – that task was reserved for those kids on punishment detail. They were kept naked and fed bread and water for the duration of their punishment. Those boys, _and_ girls, were filthy and they generally varied in age from about eight to ten-years-old. I was determined _not_ to become one of them, so I completed my chores to the best of my ability.

I still lived in the cage, alone, but I was let out to do my chores and I was fed reasonably well. Some of the other kids were jealous of the way I was treated and that resulted in a quite a few bruises. I never told on the bullies. I figured that might just make things worse. None of the adults ever commented on my new bruises – they just smirked. Part of my duties was to bring food to those on punishment detail. Those kids were very dejected and depressed. I had an idea what it was like to be forced to go around naked, but the kids in question, they were older and they would be forced to complete their punishment tasks in front of the other kids who would be dressed. Those unfortunate to be on punishment detail would be jeered at and generally made to feel bad by the other kids.

..._...

I learnt many things in those two weeks.

Principally, I learnt to follow instructions so that I could eat. I also learnt my first bad word: _fuck_. I also learnt to use it in complete sentences: You can go to _fuck_. It also covered the situation that I found myself in: I hate this _fuck_ ing place. A useful word that was bandied about quite a bit and I decided that I should blend in and not stand out, so I learnt to swear.

Something else I learnt was a name for some of the kids. They referred to themselves as _Predators_. I had no idea what that meant, or why they used that word. I also heard another similar phrase: _Urban Predator_. As I understood it, I was not to become a _Predator_ , I was way too young, although one boy suggested that my sister might have become one. Apparently, you had to be around seven or eight-years-old to become a _Predator_.

As the days passed, I felt so lonely. I never expected to see her again – my sister. I had never been on my own before; at least not for so long. The loneliness was horrible and I cried myself to sleep every night.

I missed mummy.

I missed daddy.

I missed my sister.


	4. Acceptance

**_October 30th, 2013_**

 ** _An unknown location in the USA_**

I made a kind of friend towards the end of my fourth week of being alone.

She was on punishment and I had been given the job of bringing her food and water. Her name was Rachel and she was eleven. She was the first girl that I had seen naked with hair 'down there'. As with all kids on punishment she was kept naked. On that morning, the girl had been dragged into a punishment cage. I had been summoned from my own, slightly more comfortable cage, and then she had been forced to strip before me and hand me each item of her clothing as she did. The girl had obviously been angry at her fate and more than a little embarrassed at being forced to strip in front of a young boy who could not help but star at what she revealed. However, I got the distinct impression that she was used to it as she made no real attempt to cover up her bits.

She was kept in her cage for three straight days with only bread and water which I brought to her twice a day. She was not allowed out of the cage, nor was she allowed to empty her bucket – it stank after the first day which just added to her humiliation. As a 'supernumerary', I was the only person that she was permitted to talk to – mind you everybody else would just ignore her, if they saw her, but not many people came to the punishment wing; not if they had any sense. She ignored me for the first few hours but then, when I had brought the girl her food for the second time, we exchanged greetings and we then talked about stuff.

It was a bit weird, me being clothed and her being naked, but Rachel didn't seem all that bothered.

* * *

 ** _The Present  
Thursday, June 2nd, 2016_**

 ** _Leeds, United Kingdom_**

Over the previous week or so, I had tried in vain to recover the other packs of equipment but the police had kept the place well secured.

So, just over a week after my explosive escape, I returned to scout things out in daylight – nothing unusual about a kid being nosy, I thought. I spied four men talking beside a Ford Mondeo and a very nice Overfinch Range Rover. My mind said 'five' – as in they worked for MI5, The Security Service. The four men walked into the Safehouse and were gone for several minutes before they returned to the street. The thinner, geekier one; he looked a little pale. I laughed at that. Then I flinched as the younger of the other three men spied me and he stared in my direction.

I saw his expression change to one of realisation; I was busted.

I fled the scene, and fast.

* * *

 ** _October 30th, 2013_**

 ** _An unknown location in the USA_**

Rachel was a Phase 2 _Predator_.

She had been in the system for a little over three years. I asked her about what she had been taught in that time. Initially, Rachel had been reluctant, but she soon gave in just to alleviate her boredom. She explained about learning new skills. She talked about Martial Arts training, weapons training, and some other cool sounding stuff. As Rachel opened up, she began to explain how to take apart a SIG Sauer pistol. It kept her mind off her degrading situation and I gulped down the information.

Then it all came to an end.

..._...

At the end of the third day, I was ordered to escort Rachel to the showers – kids under punishment were not allowed to go anywhere unescorted, mainly for their protection. I had no idea what a six-year-old boy could do to protect her, but rules were rules even if they seemed strange.

As was usual for those leaving the punishment cages, she carried with her the stinking bucket. I had no idea what Rachel had done to incur the wrath of the instructors, and Rachel had not been forthcoming, but when we arrived in the showers she was ordered to go and stand in the centre of the shower area, close her eyes, and not to move. Then I was shocked as a woman stepped forwards and picked up the bucket of piss and poo. She upended the bucket over the girl's head. Rachel screamed as her own bodily waste was poured onto the fiery red hair on her head and then continued on down her body. I turned away but I could still hear her sobbing and gagging at the stench.

"You knew the rules, Ascot, and you broke them," the woman growled. "Let this be a lesson to you." Then the woman turned to me. "Get her cleaned up, kid."

..._...

The next few days passed with the usual chores and I did not see Rachel again after I had helped her wash that day. She had been sobbing uncontrollably and it had taken quite a while to calm her down and then to wash the 'stuff' out of her hair. Then, out of the blue, one of the other supernumeraries stopped me in the corridor.

"The Doctor wants to see you."

I had no choice but to go see the Doctor. I hated the man. He had been there when I had been separated from my sister. I stopped outside his office and knocked on the door.

"Enter!"

I pushed open the door and walked straight to his desk and stopped.

"James Reeman reporting, sir!"

"Thank you, Jamie."

It was only then that I noticed we were not alone. Standing against the wall was the Phase 2 girl, Rachel Ascot – fully clothed. She showed no sign of recognition – she was way above me in the pecking order, so I was used to it. Those on punishment were generally regarded as lower than 'supernumeraries', but only for the duration of their punishment.

"I have been having a chat with young Miss Ascot, here – she has told me some things about you, Jamie. I think we need to have a chat about your future here."

* * *

 ** _The Present  
Saturday, 4th June, 2016_**

 ** _Highroyds, Safehouse H_**

I had put up with many cold nights since I had been forced out of the CIA Safehouse.

Being underground, I had no heating, not even from sunlight. I also needed a shower – I had not had one in over a week and I reeked. I had not ventured outside in two days and I was feeling very despondent about my future.

I lay back on my folded sleeping bag and tried to collect my thoughts.

* * *

 ** _October 30th, 2013_**

 ** _An unknown location in the USA_**

The Doctor reached into his desk drawer and his hand came out holding a pistol.

I flinched as the Doctor handed it to me. Following carefully what I had been taught by Rachel, I checked that the weapon was clear before I looked up at the Doctor. I was confused.

"Take it down."

I looked over at Rachel, who for the first time smiled at me and she nodded slightly. I followed the instruction and within a few minutes, I had followed the remembered steps and the weapon was arranged neatly on the Doctor's desk.

"Reverse it."

Again, I ran through the steps taught to me by Rachel and I placed the reassembled and safed pistol back onto the desk.

"Check it, please, Miss Ascot."

Rachel stepped forwards and did so. She smiled as she returned the pistol to the Doctor.

"Well done, Jamie. Well done, Rachel."

I was still confused and my expression must have betrayed me.

"Jamie. While you are still much too young to be a Phase 1 _Predator_ , Miss Ascot has agreed with a proposition of mine to reduce her sentence. She will spend her free time training you to the standards required to be a Phase 1 _Predator_. I'll make it simple: you fail, Jamie, she fails. I'll leave it to Miss Ascot to explain what failure means.

"Both of you seemed to 'click' while Miss Ascot was being punished. I watched the recordings and listened to your conversations. Miss Ascot is a very good instructor and you seem to have remembered everything she said, despite her breaking the rules and telling you things that you should not have known. However, she must have seen something in you. Miss Ascot, if you please."

Rachel stepped forwards and she turned to me.

"Take off your top and trousers," she ordered.

I did not hesitate and shed them. She handed me a fresh, clean t-shirt and joggers. Instead of the yellow t-shirt and yellow joggers which marked me out to all as a nobody, they were the dark grey of a _Predator_.

* * *

 ** _The Present  
Saturday, 4th June, 2016_**

 ** _Whitby, United Kingdom_**

I was not sleeping well and I was getting very despondent about my future.

As I did each day, I spent at least an hour on the beach. I knew that I needed the fresh air and I enjoyed the feeling of the warm sand between my toes. I was anonymous when I was on the beach which gave me time to relax – just a little. Maybe in hindsight my being out in public was _not_ such a good idea.

That afternoon, just as I was dusting off my feet and pulling on my socks and boots, I felt something. I was being watched. My mind began to put together things that I had seen consciously and sub-consciously. I did my best not to move faster or otherwise telegraph to my watchers that I had cottoned onto them.

Once my boots were secured, I stood up and I sauntered up the road from the beach. I stopped at an ice-cream van parked on the green before the Royal Hotel and bought a double '99'. That gave me a covert opportunity to survey my surroundings. The glazing in the van allowed me to see who was following me. I pegged a woman and two men. They loitered a dozen or so yards back from me and they were spread out like they did not know each other.

To the layman, they were total strangers and seemed perfectly normal. But to a CIA trained surveillance and counter-surveillance expert, they stood out like a naked man in a girl's changing room. I took my ice-cream and I continued my walk up the street.

I had two options.

I could lose 'em.

I could kill 'em.

* * *

 ** _November 1st, 2013_**

 ** _An unknown location in the USA_**

For the very first time, I had been exposed to the real _Predators_ in their own environment.

"You're on your own, now, Jamie. I can't go through that door."

I looked up at Rachel as she smiled back. I was about to enter the male section of the _Predator_ accommodation. Boys were not allowed in the female section and conversely, the girls were not allowed in the male section. Rachel walked off and I was left with no choice but to heave open one side of the blue-painted double doors.

..._...

I slipped through the gap hoping not to be noticed. I found myself in a large open-plan dormitory. I had never been there before – it was off limits to all but _Predators_. I could see about thirty beds, fifteen to a side. It was luxurious compared to my converted punishment cage which in turn had been luxurious compared to what Rachel had been forced to endure. Before I could take in any more...

"Hey – new kid!" came a shout.

I was more used to being ignored. My previous clothing had marked me out as inconsequential and I had liked to be ignored – apart from the odd idiot who chose to hurt me. Now, it seemed, I had the full attention of twenty-nine boys whose ages varied from eight to ten. They were the Phase 1 boys of Dragon Squad. Each phase had six squads making a total of eighteen in the training facility. When you moved between phases you would move to another squad which more suited your abilities which might have changed during your training.

Every phase had a squadron full of losers – Dragon was not that one; currently Dragon Squad was in third place on the Phase 1 leader board. I was shocked to have been sent to join _them_ rather than what was nastily nicknamed 'Derpy Squad'.

..._...

"What are you?" I heard.

"He's wearing Phase 1 kit . . ."

"He's tiny!"

"What's your name, pipsqueak?"

"Jamie Reeman."

"Ain't you the kid wearing yellow a few days back?"

I looked up at a boy a good few inches taller than myself. I nodded.

"We needed a replacement and look what they sent us! A useless, skinny, untrained snot."

I turned to see another kid – he seemed to be the biggest in the room. The black-haired boy might just as well have had 'bully' tattooed on his forehead – his attitude stood out a mile. I stepped towards him and I looked straight into his dark green eyes.

"Go fuck yourself!" I growled.

I had no idea what happened over the next few minutes as I soon found myself crying on a bed as my body screamed out in pain.


	5. Escalation

**Author's Note:** _This chapter (5) is the same as that which was taken down a week ago. A few minor changes, one scene in particular, have been made to correct some errors that would have affected future chapters._

* * *

 ** _The Present  
Monday, June 6th, 2016_**

 ** _Highroyds, Safehouse H_**

Everything was really crappy.

I was cold and miserable. Two days cooped up underground had pretty much fucked up my morale. I had no idea what to do. I was an eight-year-old boy with many skills but I could not readily integrate into the adult world. I needed somewhere better to stay but who would rent a room to a little kid? I needed a change of scene, and soon, before I fell apart from a mental point of view.

I dug out my tablet and headed upstairs to get some 4G reception.

* * *

 ** _November 14th, 2013_**

 ** _An unknown location in the USA_**

The training was hard, but in general, Rachel was kind.

She said it was due to the way that the other boys treated me. The Phase 1 girls varied from thinking I was cute to just plain ignoring me. I still had to put up with a certain black-haired boy who saw me as his own personal punchbag – his name was Damien Whyte. Yes, his name was spelled with a 'y' which just told me that he was a doofus. I put up with my twice daily beatings – there wasn't a whole lot that I could do about it. I was biding my time until I _could_ do something about it.

Damien wasn't the only source of bruises on my body. The instructors seemed to take perverse enjoyment in treating me harshly. Rachel said it was a kind of initiation to see if I could really hack it as a _Predator_. One thing Rachel _had_ been able to confirm for me was that if I proved unsuitable as a _Predator_ , then I would die. It was that simple.

My first real experience of it was that afternoon. I was late getting to my next class and I had stopped to tie my trainer.

"What are you doing here?"

"Tying my shoelace, sir."

The baton came out of nowhere and struck my left thigh. I fell backward and took my head off the wall.

"Get up, worthless fuck!"

I struggled to my feet but I was struck again, on the same already aching thigh. I screamed out in pain.

"Too slow!"

Despite my obvious distress, I was then dragged down the corridor and literally thrown into my classroom. I quickly got to my feet and I stumbled to a free desk. I received several smirks from the other kids present – Damien was almost laughing. I struggled through that lesson and resolved to avoid getting into trouble again.

Despite my resolve, me and the baton would become quite close.

* * *

 ** _The Present  
Monday, June 6th, 2016_**

 ** _Whitby, United Kingdom_**

Two days I had been evading them.

It had taken every skill that I had and the constant concentration was taking its toll. I had not slept more than a few hours since I had discovered my tail. So far, they had not found out where I was sleeping – but that could not last for ever. I made my first mistake as I was dodging two individuals that I had marked as dangerous. I made a left instead of a right and walked straight into the woman that I was supposed to be avoiding at all cost.

"Well, well, well," the woman drawled. "I thought you were better than this, Stormtide."

"I am," I replied casually as I gauged my opponent.

She was a little taller and she had an athletic build. She was also an adult and probably better trained... But I had something to fight for – my life – that gave me an edge. I pulled out a pair of ASP extendable batons and flicked them open. The woman smirked as I prepared myself for action. I was going to win – there was no other option.

I launched myself at the woman.

* * *

 ** _November 20th, 2013_**

 ** _An unknown location in the USA_**

Two months I had been in captivity.

It had been six weeks since Stephanie had vanished. Strangely, I was beginning to forget things. Not the present, just the past. I was struggling to remember what my sister looked like. What her voice sounded like. How could that happen? I had asked Rachel about it but she was not much help although she did admit that she could remember very little about her life before she became a Predator. It would be months before I matched up the memory loss to the pills we were given each morning at breakfast; 'vitamins', they were vitamins – at least that was what we were told.

My relationship with the batons became more common as the days wore on. I also began to retaliate against Damien Whyte. I was not entirely sure whether that had been a good idea or not. It seemed that he did not take kindly to my shoving the top of my head into his chin. How did I know that? The ferocity of his counterattack told me. So, another night was spent crying myself to sleep.

I felt very low.

* * *

 ** _The Present  
Monday, June 6th, 2016_**

 ** _Whitby, United Kingdom_**

I used the wall of a building to jump up and I swiped the ASP in my left hand towards her head.

As expected, she dodged. In return she punched out in my direction catching me on my left calf. That put me off kilter and I rolled to the ground but I caught myself and I sprang back to my feet. I had to keep on top of the fight; I had no choice, else I would die. I also had to end the fight fast before her pals turned up. So many negative things could get a girl down!

"Come get me, you fucking hormonal cow!" I growled and I saw the bitch's lip curl.

I was very good when it came to ambidextrous activities. It was something which had moved me to the top of my class at the academy. She produced her own ASP and we fought. I caught her on her right thigh and drew blood.

"Those jeans were new!" she growled.

"If I must, I'll take you one fucking piece at a time."

The ASPs moved through the air fast and it was all I could do to keep track of the tips of my own plus the tip of hers. More than once she came very close to catching me but I was faster and much nimbler than she was – she had quite a few years on me and a lot of extra weight too. I got my break just as I was tiring; the tip of the ASP in my left hand collided with her throat. She went down hard, a hand to where I had struck her.

The hand came away with blood on it. I never gave her a chance to regain her feet as I took the other ASP across her face; she screamed at the pain of the injury. Then I went to work on her abdomen. She forced herself back to her feet but I was in control of the fight and I was finally able to finish it off with a knee to her smug face.

She was out cold. I could hear voices approaching so I vanished down another alleyway and quietly slipped back to my room.

"Shit!" I growled as I noticed the blood on my trousers. "That'll be a bitch to get out!"

* * *

 ** _December 26th, 2013_**

 ** _An unknown location in the USA_**

It was the first Christmas that I had ever spent alone.

We all got time off for the season and generally we were all treated better. Even Damien left me alone which was a blessing. My training with Rachel had continued and she had coached me through everything from year 2 maths and English to earning the yellow tab on my belt in Taekwondo. I could shoot too – pretty much.

"Well, at least it means we can reuse your targets!" Rachel had commented dryly at the accuracy of my marksmanship.

Rachel had also introduced me to knives – the lady in the hospital wing kept me well supplied with plasters and she even gave me my own box! While we sparred together, we generally did not go out of our way to hit each other. That all changed on Boxing Day.

..._...

That morning, I missed a movement during our sparring session and Rachel slapped me hard. I was stunned. She had been nothing but kind to me ever since we had met. Her expression was neutral and I saw nothing friendly about her demeanour.

"Playtime's over, kid. I was nice to _you_ , 'cause you were nice to _me_ when I really needed it. You didn't laugh when I had my own excrement dumped over my head..."

She went to slap me again, but I blocked her hand. She made to slap me with her other hand . . . again, I blocked it. Rachel smiled.

"You're a damn quick learner, kid, I like that."

I caught onto what she was doing; she was toughening me up now I had some skills under my belt. I reached up to her chest and grabbed hold of her t-shirt. I looked directly into her eyes without fear.

"You slap me again and I'll slap you back, only twice as fucking hard!"

Rachel laughed out loud.

"You're a survivor, kid. You can do this. From now on, we are no longer friends – at least not openly. This place is the worst possible place to be alone, but the only way to get anywhere is to make sure that you're the top dog. You're the youngest here, by a long way. You're gonna have to punch way above your weight to survive. I will help you as much as I can, but it will be a long and dangerous road for us both."

"Thank you, Ascot!"

* * *

 ** _The Present  
Wednesday, June 8th, 2016_**

 ** _Highroyds, Safehouse H_**

I needed to get away, get some sun, and see if I could figure out my life.

There was a place that we used to go for holidays as a family, before that fateful final holiday to the USA. Initially, I had struggled to remember the name of the place, but after a little help from Google, I found it. A small town on the east coast. Tomorrow morning, I would find a train and head to the coast.

Tomorrow, I would be in Whitby.

* * *

 ** _December 31st, 2013_**

 ** _An unknown location in the USA_**

While me and the baton were well acquainted with each other, I was introduced to the next level of punishment . . . the strap. I had witnessed several boys and one girl being strapped. It had frightened the life out of me each time that I'd seen it being used. The screaming from the child being strapped was unearthly, especially when the punishment called for more than about five strikes. In almost all cases it was publicly administered on bare skin which just added to the humiliation of the punishment.

So, how did I get into that predicament?

..._...

The New Year was approaching when Alexander came to ask me if I wanted to join in with a little fun the following morning with the other Phase 1 _Predators_.

Fun!

 _Predators_ did _not_ have fun – at least I had never seen any. Or if they did have fun, it probably involved some creative ways to kill each other! Typically, I was remarkably close to the truth, not that I would know that until the early hours of the following morning when it was too late to do much about it. As I understood it at that point, nobody slept on New Year's Eve and as was tradition, the instructors would leave us kids alone.

Cool!

At least that was what I thought.

* * *

 ** _The Present  
Thursday, June 9th, 2016_**

 ** _Whitby_**

Almost three fucking hours on public transport.

I had had to change at Scarborough to get on a bus after a 75-minute train ride. I hated buses! So, after another hour on a bus with zero fucking suspension, I was very tired and very grumpy when I finally spied the sea and I was able to leave the rickety contraption that passed as high-quality public transport. I seriously hoped for a few days of sun, sand, and tranquillity.

I soon found a seedy B&B that was more interested in cash than an eight-year-old checking in on his own.


	6. Encounters

**_January 1st, 2014_**

 ** _An unknown location in the USA_**

The New Year, 2014, had _not_ gone well for me.

I was soon about to find out _why_ they left us alone.

The instructors called it 'character building' – I just called it barbaric.

However, the _Predators_ called it 'Fight Club'. I had never heard the phrase 'fight club' before but I did not like the sound of it. One of the other boys explained it to me: "Four kids go into the 'ring' and they fight it out. The instructors like to see a little blood – they watch over the CCTV but don't intervene."

"What are the limits?"

"None – except one of the elder kids will usually stop any fights that turn ugly. Some of the Phase 2 kids come along to watch the blood and act as referees."

"The winner?"

"They get rewarded with special treatment for one week. Better food, no beatings . . . They also get a lot of respect from the other _Predators_."

..._...

"Are you fucking nuts?"

Rachel was one of the Phase 2 referees and I had confided in her my intention to participate.

"Isn't everybody, in this place, nuts?" I retorted.

Rachel laughed at that.

"Maybe so – you'll get badly hurt, Jamie."

"Is that compassion, I hear?"

"Fuck damn it!" Rachel growled. "I lost my little brother and you . . . you kind of remind me of him. I don't want to see you hurt."

"Nothing to do with the fact that I'm your meal ticket to an easy life?"

"Figured that out have you? No, I genuinely care about you; but you tell anybody that and I'll take you down you little fuck."

I grinned foolishly and I went to sign up, just as foolishly.

* * *

 ** _The Present  
Thursday, June 9th, 2016_**

 ** _Whitby_**

I went for a wander, once I had sorted out my kit.

The feeling of the warm sand between my toes was just what I needed after the concrete of the past few weeks. I took off my t-shirt and absorbed the sun's hot rays on my pale skin. Too much time underground had taken its toll and I desperately needed the sun's healing rays to bring me back to good health. The sea was cool as I paddled in the surf. For the first time in quite a while, I felt safe. I felt my nerves settling down. I could go from being constant alert to something approaching restfulness.

A gentle breeze blew across the beach from the east and I felt so relaxed. I walked up to Battery Parade and bought an enormous fish and chips with scampi on the side. I went back to sit on the sand while I stuffed my face and I had to admit that I felt well and truly stuffed by the time I had finished. I was the happiest I had been in . . . to be honest I had no idea when I had last been happy.

After disposing of my rubbish, I found myself dozing off.

* * *

 ** _January 1st, 2014_**

 ** _An unknown location in the USA_**

We all mustered in the common area between the two dormitories.

It was one of the few open areas where boys and girls could congregate together. I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. Rachel thought I was off my rocker and apparently, so did one of the other Phase 1 boys. He was called Ryan and we had met in the punishment block before I had become a _Predator_.

"You are fucking certifiable, Reeman, if you think you can enter and last more than ten micro-seconds. Those other kids are out there for blood and glory. There are _no_ rules, _no_ instructors, just us kids. People get badly hurt and it's not unknown for people to die. Last year, a kid ended up in a coma for months after a bad knock to the head. They turned off his life support in the end – a waste of resources they said."

"I can do it."

"You'll get yourself fucking flattened. They'll partner you with some massive cunt just for the fun of it."

"I need to prove myself."

"There's better ways to prove yourself, kid. Besides, what's the point in proving yourself, if you're dead?"

"He's got a point – despite him being a doofus."

I turned to see Rachel standing behind me. Her expression did not bode well for my future.

"Thanks, Ascot. Reeman and you are an item, right?"

"Go fuck yourself, Dalton!"

..._...

There was a lot of murmuring, not to mention some laughter as the other kids noticed me. I just glared at each one and I hoped that nobody saw my shaking legs! Six Phase 2 kids were gathered together; Rachel was one of them and she was talking animatedly with two boys who kept glancing over at yours truly. I hated being the subject of conversation – even more, I hated it when I wasn't involved.

The first round began. Three boys and a girl were selected to go in first. The boys were all eight while the girl was nine. Each kid stood on a taped cross, located at each cardinal point of the compass. A Phase 2 boy stepped forwards and introduced himself – his name was Oscar, apparently. Something told me he thought too much of himself – but then he _was_ an American! I stood to one side with Ryan and we watched as Oscar stopped prattling on and announced the '2014 Fight Club' _open_ . . .

The four kids ran at each other and I heard a scream as the girl was kicked in the face – blood exploded from her broken nose.

* * *

 ** _The Present  
Friday, June 10th, 2016_**

 ** _Whitby_**

The first night was shit.

The bed was shit. I slept like shit. The shower was shit. The room was shit. The building was shit. Not surprisingly, the breakfast was shit. A good start to what was to become a shit day. Okay – maybe that was too much shit, but considering I felt like . . . never mind – I'm sure you got the idea!

The previous afternoon, I had awoken on the beach and I had felt really good. I had headed back up onto the Battery Parade and then bought myself a very large liquorice flavoured ice-cream – I was in heaven! The rest of the afternoon and evening had been good; the chance to relax and be a kid for a few hours had rejuvenated me and I truly felt like a different eight-year-old.

I had gone to bed happy.

I just wish I'd awoken happy.

I had taken perhaps three steps outside the B&B from hell when my senses began to talk to me. My training was telling me that potential enemies were abound and that I should take extra care. However, I chose to revisit the beach and enjoy the sun – what eight-year-old would not. Other families were out enjoying themselves and apart from a pang of sadness as I watched each family unit, I felt in good company for the first time in years.

Lunch was fish and chips, once again.

* * *

 ** _January 1st, 2014_**

 ** _An unknown location in the USA_**

I was wide-eyed and very unsure of my future as the girl was knocked unconscious by one of the boys who then punched another boy in the face. The third boy took the opportunity to seize the heads of both boys before smashing them together. There was a collective 'oooh' from the excited audience as both boys fell with a yell of pain, holding their heads.

The triumphant boy – his name was Raymond – smirked and he went to put his feet up till the semi-final was called. The girl was coming around and she was helped off to one side where she was dumped onto a chair to recover. The two boys nursed their aching heads as they headed back to their dormitory. All four kids had blood on them and none had come out unscathed, not even Raymond. To say that I was having second thoughts was a major understatement – maybe Rachel as right!

The second group were called: 'Baker, Wilkinson, Wilde . . . Reeman'.

 _Oh, shit!_

* * *

 ** _The Present  
Friday, June 10th, 2016_**

 ** _Whitby_**

Everything went to shit from about two that afternoon.

That niggling voice at the back of my brain had finally battered its way through my enjoyment and I suddenly began firing on all cylinders. As my senses came back online, I instinctively reached into the small daypack I carried and brought my H&K P30SK Compact to readiness. I was on the eastern side of Whitby Harbour, on the side of the Abbey. I noticed two men and a woman. Something about them began to sound alarms in my brain.

Then the woman looked directly at me, then down to her phone. I saw the recognition in her face.

* * *

 ** _That evening_**

 ** _Vengeance Command Centre, Scotland_**

"Nats? Come look at this."

"What you got, Eric?"

"A YouTube video from earlier this afternoon. The computers flagged the content as of interest – look at the title."

Natasha King looked up at the large wall-mounted screen: 'Young boy shoots man on Whitby street'. As the two vigilantes watched, they saw an image of the Yorkshire fishing town on the west coast of England. The sun was shining and it looked like a typical family video. Until . . . A young boy could be seen looking down the street, then he dived flat to the floor and several pistol shots were heard. The boy reached into his pack and produced a small pistol. He came up into a kneeling stance and he began to return fire. His smaller pistol issuing sharp cracks compared to the heavier booms of the opposition.

The camera had moved to show three adults, each with large pistols in their hands. One, a woman dived into cover behind a parked van. A man followed suit but the third member received two bullets to his chest and he went down hard. The boy showed no fear as he emptied his magazine at the adults before calmly reloading and running towards the swing-bridge across the water. He just made it to the other side before the bridge began to open for an approaching boat.

Screams and sirens could be heard as people dove for cover. The young boy was last seen running into the narrow streets of Whitby.

"Holy, shit!" Natasha breathed.

"Remind you of anybody?" Eric asked.

"Yes. He's a male version of Stephanie."

* * *

 ** _Earlier that afternoon_**

 ** _Whitby_**

I was breathing heavily when I finally stopped and dived behind some large wheelie bins to rest. My mind raced like a super computer on steroids.

What the hell was the CIA doing in Whitby?

Were they after me?

Had it been a coincidence?

I had opened fire in plain sight of hundreds of people . . . was my cover blown?

There were so many questions to be answered that I had no idea where to start – being alone sucked! I checked that my pistol was loaded and ready for action. I stayed where I was for another twenty minutes before I moved off slowly and headed deeper into the back alleys of Whitby with my pistol concealed in the back of my trousers.

I had made it maybe a hundred yards when I felt something. I turned. Then I felt something grab me and I was held tightly against a body as an arm wrapped around my neck and began to squeeze.

"Don't fight it, kid . . . don't fight it."

The voice was American and it sounded evil. The pressure on my carotid artery was increasing and I began to feel weak.

* * *

 ** _January 1st, 2014_**

 ** _An unknown location in the USA_**

I had never felt so scared as I did at that moment.

There were jeers as I moved to the cross opposite the girl, Wilde. The other two boys on either side were smirking. I looked around and saw many expression – none of them particularly friendly.

'You can do this!' I thought.

I had an advantage over the other three. Though most were aware of my being trained. Most saw me as an annoying six-year-old. I was three inches under four-foot tall, so I was not exactly an imposing threat – my opponents towered over me with over a foot of height advantage. Even the girl, Wilde, had muscles way bigger than my own. My trump card was that nobody other than Rachel knew what I had been trained in and how well.

Okay – three weeks ago, she had taught me how to fight somebody bigger and taller than myself; she had figured it might come in handy. Thank you, Rachel! Her teachings ran through my mind.

Rule 1: Don't fight unless you must. _Fuck that; I had no choice!_

Rule 2: Keep your guard up. _I could do that – but against three?_

Rule 3: Dodge strikes rather than blocking them. _That, I could do; I'd been doing it ever since I had arrived in the God forsaken place!_

Rule 4: Don't wrestle with your opponent. _I had no intention of doing that, but choice might not be involved!_

Rule 5: Be prepared to take a punch. As per Rule 3; _I'd been doing it ever since I had arrived._

Those were the first set of rules. As I began to think about the second set of rules, that doofus, Oscar announced the fight and . . .

..._...

I had kinda hoped that they might all come straight for me and put me out of my misery – one fist to the face and goodnight, Jamie Reeman! The two boys, Andrews and Bellamy, had gone for Wilde. She fought back hard and I had to admit, she was good. The two boys turned their backs on me as they fought the eight-year-old girl. That gave me a few precious seconds to work out a strategy.

Rule 6: Use evasive tactics. _Rachel had taught me to 'dance' and keep outside of my opponents reach. I had also learnt to kick – my legs were, like most people, longer than my arms._

Rule 7: Get in close. _I would need to neutralise my opponents reach advantage – that would require impeccable timing._

Rule 8: Tire them out. _I hoped that my youthful 'younger kid' energy could out do that of the older kids – they, after all, had a bigger body to carry about, by about five or six kilos._

Rule 9: Use the element of surprise. _That was my biggest trump card I could play._

Rule 10: Take your time and wait for an opening. _Time was not to be my friend, but I would see what I could do._

Rule 11: Aim for sensitive targets. _Rachel had hammered this in, time and time again – at least until I had punched her in her left boob; apparently, that hurts! Wilde had no boobs – but she had other sensitive points while the boys had the same kit I did._

Rule 12: Go for submission, if on the ground. _If I ended up on the floor, I was good as dead!_

Rule 13: Fight dirty. _I had no qualms about doing whatever it took to succeed._

..._...

Those rules ran in and out of my mind as I mentally ordered them and decided on who to attack and how to attack them. I decided that Rule 9 would be a good place as any to start. There was no point waiting for them to attack me on _their_ terms – I was going to attack on _my_ terms.

All eyes were on the two boys and the girl – nobody was looking at the scrappy little boy who was advancing up behind Andrews and Bellamy. It was time to level the playing field so I mixed up Rule 11 and 13 along with my already intended Rule 9. I ran up behind the two boys while their attention was firmly on Wilde. First, I aimed for the sensitive targets and I rammed my bare foot into each boy's groin from behind. As the two eight-year-old boys screamed bloody murder, I followed up with Rule 13 and kicked both in the backs of the knees to put them on the ground.

I looked up and saw Rachel. She motioned me urgently to follow through. I did so, and I kicked both boys in the face which sent them recoiling backwards, incapacitated. I thought I had done well – only I had forgotten Rule 2 and I quickly experienced Rule 5 as Wilde took advantage of my attack to attack the short six-year-old.

Fuck me! Her punch hurt, way more than Rachel's punches, and that was saying something.

..._...

"Thanks, you little fuck – never knew you had anything in you," Wilde growled in my ear as she spun me around. "I'm gonna win this and your little Brit ass is gonna get kicked from one side of this space to the other."

I went back to Rule 11 and I reached back with my right hand and grabbed her between the legs and dug my nails in. The girl screamed in pain and released me. I heard the crowd roar in appreciation at the attack by a small boy on a bigger kid. I also got the impression that the boys enjoyed seeing a girl humiliated.

Wilde – well, she did _not_ take it well! Once she was happy that I had not damaged her girl parts, she advanced on me. The unfortunate Andrews was just struggling to his knees as she passed and she kicked him hard in the face. I cringed when I heard his head collide with the wall as he fell. However, I had no time to consider Andrews' health as a very angry eight-year-old girl kicked me to the ground.

She went down on one knee and wrapped her right arm around my neck. She pulled back and I felt pressure on my neck. The yelling around me began to fade. I could hear my heart pounding in my head. I'd run out of rules; there was nothing that I could do – it was the end.

I was starting to lose consciousness as I fumbled for a better hold on Wilde.


	7. Hit Girl

**_The Present  
Friday, June 10th, 2016_**

 ** _Whitby, United Kingdom_**

I was starting to lose consciousness as I fumbled for the pistol at my back, then I heard a voice call out.

"Get off him, you fucking faggot!"

It was a girl's voice and it had a Yorkshire accent to it. His grip on my neck eased as he turned to see who had called out. I could make out a shape through my blurred vision. The man smirked at the sight of the girl.

"Fresh meat!" he growled as he released me and I fought to get my breath back.

"No fucking chance," I growled in return as I pulled out my pistol and fired two shots into the man's head from three feet away.

Luckily, none of the man's blood or brains landed on me as he fell. The girl ran forwards, seized me by my upper left arm, and dragged me unceremoniously out of the alleyway. I quickly shoved the pistol out of sight before we reached the public street. It looked like nobody had heard the gunshots, or maybe it was just that nobody had recognised them for what they were.

We ran for a good distance before we dived into a small burger joint and I was shoved into a booth.

* * *

Well, things had most definitely livened up in sleepy Whitby!

Turned out I wasn't the only killer kid in the town. I assumed that the boy was the same one the Police were looking for after a man was shot dead in the centre of town, this afternoon. It had to be the right boy unless there were more young boys running around the place with H&K pistols! My afternoon had been peaceful – in fact, the morning had been too – then, while I had been picking out a couple of new t-shirts, I heard the unmistakeable sounds of gunfire.

I had dropped the t-shirts and run out of the shop. By the time I reached the scene, I saw one man on the road, he appeared dead. Two more people, a man and a woman, were running towards the swing-bridge. I saw a boy, a pistol in his right hand, running onto the bridge which then started to swing, just as the boy reached the far side. The man and the woman swore violently and they ran for a car before speeding off, leaving their assumed colleague lying in the road.

Once the bridge was back in place, I had headed after the mini-Jason Bourne.

* * *

 ** _January 1st, 2014_**

 ** _An unknown location in the USA_**

I reached up and grabbed the girl's neck.

I felt around for a moment and then I pushed my finger in just where her carotid artery was located. The girl did not seem to notice – she appeared to be still very angry about my grabbing her unmentionables! My strength was ebbing fast. I put everything that I had into holding my finger in place for as long as I could. Wilde was all fired up and it seemed to take quite a while before I felt the pressure around my own neck begin to subside. I took a deep breath and threw my head back. I caught Wilde on the side of her jaw and she fell backwards with us both tumbling into a pile.

"Get the fuck off me!" Wilde growled.

I punched the girl in the face and as she rolled over, I struck her in a kidney causing her great pain. She kicked out and sent me flying backwards which really hurt but I scrambled back up and poised myself to fend off the attack which I knew was inbound. Then Wilde tripped as Bellamy dripped her purely by accident. I jumped and landed on Wilde's abdomen. The contents of her lungs were forced out in one go and the girl doubled over the moment I had rolled off her.

I wrapped my arm around her neck with the last of my energy.

"You yield?" I demanded.

* * *

I could _not_ believe it!

I was stunned and for a moment there was total silence as everybody just stared at the solitary figure left standing. He was bruised, battered, and bloody, but her was victorious. Oscar stepped forwards and for the first time since I had known the Yank, he was genuinely speechless.

"The winner of round two . . . Jamie Reeman . . . bet that sucks, Wilde!" Oscar declared with a derisive laugh at the end.

The silence was broken and there was cheering. Everybody cheered the baby _Predator_ as he sank to the ground breathing heavily. Obviously, he had taken all my training to heart and he had fought well. Two boys ran and helped Jamie to his feet and led him over to a chair where he slumped down, a relieved smile on his lips. Another boy passed him a cold can of Coke. I just shook my head as a stretcher was brought out for Andrews who was then taken to the Hospital Wing. Bellamy was hauled off the mat and I saw a very pissed off Wilde glare at Jamie.

One of the few rules was that what happened at Fight Club, stayed at Fight Club. Jamie was safe from any reprisal – mind you, Wilde would receive the ribbing of her life having just been beaten by a boy over two-years her junior.

* * *

I closed my eyes for a few minutes and allowed the pain to ease.

When I awoke, the final was underway – two ten-year-old boys were fighting it out. I was still very tired and not fully lucid but I could hear what was going on around me. I tuned into a conversation between two boys.

"He was one lucky brat. If Ascot hadn't made that deal to have two derpy's facing Reeman, then he would have been badly hurt. Wilde should have one, only her luck sucked!"

I growled to myself – that bitch had rigged it!

I thought I had won on my own merit. Once the final was over, I looked for Rachel but there was no sign of her. I headed down the corridor to the dining room but she was not there, either. On my way back I smiled at all the surprisingly complimentary comments and then stopped one of the Phase 1 girls.

"You seen Ascot?" I asked.

The girl smirked.

"She's gone for a shower – you want me to tell her you're looking for her?"

"Nah – I'll find her myself."

I was livid as I made my way to the female dormitory and as I pushed open the double doors, I unwittingly sealed my own fate.

..._...

I had never been in the female dormitory before, however, it was a twin that I slept in so finding the showers was easy. There were many questioning looks as I stormed past the beds and I ignored the partially dressed girls as I went. I shoved open the door to the bathroom, stormed in and then stopped dead.

"Can we help you?"

It was Wilde. She was in the shower directly ahead of me and I winced at the sight of the bruising on her left cheek, not to mention that on her stomach and some vicious red marks on the pale skin between her legs. I barely noticed that the eight-year-old was completely naked.

"I'm looking for Ascot."

"Well done on downing me, Reeman," Wilde grinned as if having a boy stare at her in the shower was normal. "Ascot! You have a visitor."

A head poked out a few showers down.

"What the fuck?"

"I want a word with you!" I yelled as I walked closer.

"What are you doing in here? They find you . . ."

"You rigged the fight!" I growled.

Rachel shrugged and she nodded.

"Yes, only you won fair and square against Wilde."

Wilde stuck her head out of her shower and she scowled but nodded at me gallantly.

"You are a fucking bitch, Rachel."

"Yes, I am – now get the fuck out of here before somebody finds you."

"Thanks," I offered as Rachel headed back into the shower.

Then the heavens collapsed around me . . .

" _Reeman!_ "

I closed my eyes and I groaned inwardly.

I was in _deep_ shit!

* * *

 ** _The Present  
Friday, June 10th, 2016_**

 ** _Whitby_**

I hated to admit it but the girl _had_ saved my life...

As we both sat in the crappy seaside burger joint, neither of us said anything. The girl just stared at me, a smirk on her face. But as I got up to grab another straw, I noticed something as I sat back down again. It had been a remote possibility, but it was now confirmed. There, hidden behind the girl's long and slightly curled dirty-blonde hair was a small tattoo maybe an inch long and just behind her right earlobe.

I sat back down again.

"If I were to say to you, 'Oakland Falls', what might your response be?" I mused and I studied my saviour's facial expression.

Her pupils dilated slightly which indicated that I had touched a nerve.

"I would probably shoot you dead . . .," she replied with a smile.

"I saw the commando dagger – I've got one too," I said calmly. "They abandon you as well?"

The girl did not hesitate as she grabbed my head and pinned me to the table before she twisted my head none too gently to one side so that she could reach my ear.

"Hey – my head _is_ actually attached to me, you know!"

As she let go of my right ear, she released my head and we both sat back.

"Sorry – I'm Shannon Drake..."

"Jamie Carter . . . thanks for saving my life."

"How old are you?"

"In three months, I'll be nine."

"In four months, I'll be fourteen."

* * *

 ** _January 1st, 2014_**

 ** _An unknown location in the USA_**

The strap felt like nothing I had ever felt before.

The woman had dragged me out of the bathroom and through the dormitory. There was a surprisingly respectful silence from the girls; they all knew what my fate would be as I was thrust out of the dormitory and hauled towards the male dormitory. The next few minutes were a blur as I was lifted onto a table and pushed down on my front. My shorts were ripped down along with my underwear and after a short pause it began.

All I remember was my screaming as I felt like my backside was on fire. The first blow knocked the air out of my lungs and I struggled to take another breath to scream as I was pinned down by a pair of large hands. Again, I felt pain such as I had never felt before. The burning sensation as the strap came down was beyond any comparison. I lost count and I felt like I had been beaten over a hundred times.

Finally, the hands stopped pressing me down and I just went limp. I was paralysed and nothing I could do would make my limbs operate. I wanted my life to end – at least the pain would come to an end as well.

I sobbed and sobbed.

* * *

 ** _The Present  
Friday, June 10th, 2016_**

 ** _Whitby_**

"I assume those CIA fuckers are here because of you, Drake?"

"I bumped into them the other day and we had a minor falling out – since then they've been trying to kill me."

"I know what you mean. I blew up my handler with a Claymore – made a mess of the wall."

Shannon laughed.

"Let's get outta here. What's your digs like?"

"Shit!" I growled.

"We'll grab your kit and you can come stay with me – my place is only borderline shit."

..._...

She was right – it was borderline shit!

"We share the bed but don't get any fucking ideas, you little shit!" Shannon growled with an evil smile.

"You're a nice girl but a little old for my tastes," I replied innocently. "Besides, I'm eight; I ain't into girls, not yet."

"Boys, then?"

"Do you want slapped, slapper?"

"I like you, Carter – you're fun!"

We stayed indoors for the rest of the afternoon. Considering I was a wanted murderer, Shannon nipped out for some fish and chips. We sat on the floor eating and telling crude jokes. Neither of us broached our _Predator_ backgrounds. I sensed that Shannon was pleased to have somebody to talk to. Me? I felt the same, even if it was only some dumb girl.

At ten that night, we both climbed into the single bed and I fell asleep almost straight away.

* * *

 ** _January 1st, 2014_**

 ** _An unknown location in the USA_**

I was very surprised to find myself being helped to my bed.

"You took that well, Reeman."

"You took that like a man, good on yah."

"Not bad for a little kid."

"Six at _his_ age? Wow!"

* * *

 ** _January 2nd, 2014_**

I must have passed out as it was almost lunchtime when I awoke.

Without thinking, I rolled onto my back and they must have heard me in the next continent as I yelled out in agony. Needless to say, I didn't much like the strap. I was also glad that I could pee standing up as sitting was decidedly painful.

I received a strong lecture on boundaries that afternoon. I also received a hearty congratulation from the Doc about my success in the fighting. As promised, I was not hassled by anybody and I never saw a baton raised toward me. While I was eating some improved rations, I received everything from jealous stares to downright surprise. I was the topic of conversation all over the facility.

Abigail Wilde even approached me to say hello and well done. She offered me a re-match when I was older. I apologised about my grabbing her 'down below' but she just laughed it off and admitted that she was still a little sore but no real harm had been done. I felt really good about myself and even better, Rachel was praised for the quality of her training.

Things appeared to be looking up.

* * *

 ** _The Present  
Saturday, June 11th, 2016_**

 ** _Whitby_**

I felt groggy and the alarm took a while to register in my mind.

What the hell was that piercing screech. My mind added it all up and a single word popped up in my mind.

FIRE!

I bolted awake and began to gag. The room was full of choking black smoke and I could barely make out the illumination from the bathroom light. I punched Shannon in the back and she came awake instantly.

"What the fu . . . oh, shit!"

I shoved the slightly confused Shannon out of the bed and dived for my shoes and my pack. Neither of us had undressed as we were expecting a raid from the friendly guys at Langley. The smoke was getting thicker and I was choking. Shannon grabbed a pair of towels and she soaked both in cold water before she threw one to me and then threw the other over her head. We crawled across the floor with our noses mere millimetres from the manky carpet.

We reached the door but as I ran the back of my hand up the wood, I felt my hand getting hot – the door was a no go.

"The window!" I yelled over the noise of the raging flames. I had never appreciated how noisy a fire could be – not until I was all but surrounded by the killer element.

Shannon reached the window first and she stood up to kick the glass out of the frame. She lifted me up and almost threw me out of the window. We both slid down the roof outside the window and landed on top of a rather prickly hedge. We could see many people. Some were from the B&B and others were just rubber-necking. I checked my watch; it was a little after three in the morning. Blue lights were flashing and two-tone sirens were sounding as a pair of fire engines appeared and jumped into action.

Shannon grabbed my hand and we slunk away from the scene and headed towards the railway station. The first train out of Whitby was at 08:45 that morning and we both intended to be on it.

Assuming we were still alive.

* * *

 ** _March 23rd, 2014_**

 ** _An unknown location in the USA_**

Almost three months had passed since I had won that round during _Predator_ Fight Club.

The week afterwards had been great but it had ended oh so quickly. It had taken another week to get over my bruised backside and all the jokes that went with it! The festive season had faded quicker than it had arrived and we were immediately back to the training and the lessons.

During the first week in February, I had my first lesson concerning the reason for our being.

..._...

"This week's topic is one which you are all probably very eager to hear."

The instructor received blank looks from the class. I looked at the girl sitting beside me. Abigail Wilde just shook her head. I had no idea why she had decided to become my friend but she seemed to sit with me whenever we had the same classes.

"Hit Girl!"

Who? The name sounded vaguely familiar.

"Every _Predator_ , in fact this entire program is based upon a single person. She only came to light in mid-2009. Most of you would have still been little babies, back then."

The instructors liked to have a laugh at our expense but it was funny – that time.

"Very little was known about the purple-clad vigilante. She kept to the shadows along with her guardian and trainer, Big Daddy. Needless to say, Hit Girl was cruel, vindictive, and very violent . . ."

"You met Wilde, Sir?" I quipped to general laughter.

"Thank you, Mr Reeman – yes, Miss Wilde is known to be violent on occasions, however, seeing as she is with you, we are safe from her going on a killing rampage."

Wilde's cheeks went red at the intended strike towards her fighting performance at the New Year. There was a little more laughter at her expense before the lights dimmed and a short video was played. I had not known what to expect, and neither had the other kids.

 _'. . . This, for all you cavemen out there  
. . . is fire . . . fire . . . fire is good . . . fire is our friend  
. . . Gentlemen . . . time to die . . .'_

..._...

I was stunned when the short clip came to an end. Not only had a man died horribly, a young girl of maybe ten-years-old had killed a dozen more before brazenly shooting out the camera.

"That was the first time that anybody had ever laid eyes on Hit Girl – and lived," the instructor continued. "That same night she went on a vengeful rampage against a Chicago king-pin, Frank D'Amico. She was assisted, we believe, by her current partner, Kick-Ass."

Several images of dead bodies and shot-up walls followed. Captions identified it as 'D'Amico Penthouse'.

"One girl did all that. That, girls and boys, is what you are working to become. While we are moulding you in Hit Girl's image, Hit Girl is not to be trusted; she is evil and if you should ever come across her – kill her, before she kills you. You will all be seen as a threat and therefore you must be eliminated."

..._...

"That was way cool!" Wilde announced as we left the classroom.

"Bet you see yourself as Hit Girl," I commented dryly.

"I liked the utility belt."

"Typical girl – you lot like anything that's pink!"

"We do not!" Wilde retorted.

"Do, too!"

We argued all the way to the next class . . .

..._...

At lunch, my other female friend waved me over to join her and a couple of other Phase 2 girls.

"You can join us, Wilde," Rachel offered.

Wilde appeared a little unsettled at being in the presence of Phase 2 girls – they tended to be very cruel to the younger girls.

"Heard something really awesome, this morning," Rachel said as all the girls – and me – leant in to listen. "Heard about a girl in another training centre. She killed another girl in _cold blood_ – in a shower, stark bollock naked!"

"Doesn't sound too amazing," one of the older girls said.

"The killer was eight while the corpse was twelve," Rachel finished.

"Oh, wow!" Wilde commented.

"Don't get any ideas, Wilde!" the same older girl laughed. "You couldn't even put a six-year-old down!"

I pulled Wilde away from the table quickly before she started a fight and became a corpse herself. I related the tale to the Phase 1 boys that night. That caused quite a stir I can assure you – for a group of boys, just the thought of a girl fighting naked . . . well, you get the idea.


	8. The First Kills

**_The Present  
Sunday, June 12th, 2016_**

 ** _Whitby_**

We had dutifully left the town on the first train.

Both of us were really tired having slept in three separate places over a five-hour period. The early morning had been chilly and we were both glad to get ourselves some hot tea and a bacon roll before boarding the train.

We both fell asleep very quickly, once aboard.

* * *

Neither of the two tired children had noticed the tall man who had stepped out of the arriving train.

The man had not seen the two children, either. He headed into the now not-so-sleepy town and stopped at the swing bridge. He appeared to be examining the scene which was surrounded by miles of Police tape. He paid extra attention to the trajectories of the gun shots and the distances involved. He nodded approvingly as he checked out the young boy's shooting position and the results of his marksmanship.

Next, he moved onto the scene of a major fire which the Police were investigating as arson. Apparently, petrol had been used along with a high-temperature ignition source. Nobody had died which was fortunate, although several people were in hospital with breathing difficulties due to the smoke.

The hospital was located in Scarborough and that was the astute man's next stop.

* * *

 ** _April 27th, 2014_**

 ** _An unknown location in the USA_**

Apparently, I had done something right.

The Doc was very happy with my progress and by extension, Rachel would enjoy living a little longer. I had no idea why she appeared upset but she appeared to know something that I did not about my immediate future.

I pressed her but she would not tell me.

* * *

The day seemed to be one long punishment – at least at first.

Mid-morning, I was dragged out of the classroom by a pair of Phase 2 _Predators_. No attempt to impede them was made by the instructor. I found myself almost dragged down corridor after corridor and then into a bare room. The floor was tiled and so were the walls. Rather ominously, there was a very large steel tank in the centre of the room. The tank was full of water and it did not look like a cosy bath.

"Strip him!"

The command came from one of two instructors who stood at the head of the tank. My top and bottoms were pulled off me until I was left in just my undershorts. I began to shiver – with both cold and fright. Nothing about the scene made me see anything good coming out of the unexpected activity.

Then they grabbed me.

..._...

To say that the water was cold would have been a colossal understatement. I had never felt so cold in my entire life. The shock was immense and I struggled against those that held me under the water. What felt like minutes passed in mere seconds as I was pulled up to receive lungful's of fresh, life-giving, air. I had just taken a deep breath when I was shoved back under. I tried to scream. I struggled. I fought. I felt the terror building up inexorably inside me . . . then I was back in the normal world, retching as water poured from my nose and mouth.

Then it began again . . . and again . . . and again.

I lost count of how many times I had been thrust under the water but I was fully aware that the number of times I was thrust under was equally matched by the times I was pulled out again. I was struggling to remain conscious; my lungs were getting little fresh air each time I surfaced and I was exhausted.

Finally, I was dragged out and then I found myself thrust under more water. I screamed out only to find that the water was hot and while it took ages to be felt through my freezing skin, it was the most glorious feeling. They left me alone and I sobbed as I huddled in a corner of the shower. I felt so miserable. What had I done to deserve it? I thought I had done well – I had never felt so sad and so low.

..._...

The next few hours passed in a haze. I was given things to swallow and things to chew. I was given liquids to drink. I felt disorientated. I felt alone. I felt betrayed. I felt anger. I felt loss. I felt like I was no longer James Reeman. What was happening to me?

My final port of call – not that I was to know – was a stark looking room straight out of a hospital. A wheeled hospital bed over to one side, a metal desk with a computer in the centre of the tiled floor. Three steel chairs over in the farthest corner. The chairs were occupied – something familiar about the shapes. Then a voice spoke . . .

"In this program, you will save the lives of our citizens . . ."

The voice was cold and gravelly sounding. The voice scared me. A woman came out of the shadows in one corner of the room. She was old and she smelled. I looked more closely at the three chairs in the opposite corner. A man. A woman. A young girl. The woman droned on and on. Hours must have gone by. I was dragged out of the room twice and I revisited the tank room. Then, I would be warmed up and returned to the room with three people in three chairs and the woman who would go on and on.

I had no idea who she was, but she spoke with a British accent; that in itself was strange as I knew full well that I was currently in the United States of America. The lecture was always something about patriotism, national pride, and saving lives – usually American and British lives. Never any other nationality, but the emphasis was on the _British_ aspect, which I assumed was because I was British. I was a patriot, just like any other British person and the voice seemed to work itself into my mind, deep into my subconscious. I had no idea how long it had all gone on for but I was tired. They would push me into a cell – a real cell, not like those in the punishment block. There was constant noise. I was so tired; I needed rest. I needed to sleep. Then I would be dragged back to that room with three people in three chairs and the woman who would go on and on.

"As part of this program, you will need to sacrifice your old life . . ."

The woman walked me closer to the three people. Though they had hoods covering their heads, I knew exactly who they were. The hoods were not to hide their identities from me; but mine from them. Their clothing was familiar. I knew them. I knew that they were my past. They were my family. Mum, Dad . . . Stephanie.

"An asset's greatest weakness are those who know them. People who know you can tell others about you; therefore, they m _ust_ be eliminated."

The woman moved so she stood before me but to the left, away from the three people in the three chairs. She raised her hand, palm up. In it was a black pistol. I recognised it instantly; a Heckler & Koch P30SK.

"Take this weapon and eliminate those closest to you. When you have done so, you will leave here not as who you were, but as Jamie Carter."

Calmly, I took the weapon from the woman, grip first. I could tell it was loaded, by the weight – three rounds; one for each member of my family. It was easy to do; it felt so deceptively natural. Three gentle squeezes of the trigger were all it took. It was as simple as that. As the smoke from the three rounds was sucked away by the air-conditioning and the sound of the gunshots faded – three bodies lay dead before me. My family was dead. I had killed my family.

The doctor walked over to the slumped bodies. She pulled the hoods from the heads of those slumped bodies. I had shot all three in the head. Almost surgical, instant, clean kills.

My first kills.

* * *

 ** _The Present  
Sunday, June 12th, 2016_**

 ** _York_**

 ** _Jamie with Shannon_**

I jerked awake.

I hated that nightmare. Reliving that experience was worse than horrific. Under the drugs the CIA fed a _Predator_ , that nightmare rarely occurred. Some _Predators_ never realised what they had done, although deep down they knew. We all knew; it was a rite of passage. Nobody talked about it, no matter how brave you were and it was strongly discouraged for obvious reasons.

The train slowing had jerked me awake. Shannon appeared to have snapped awake as well. I smiled as we both executed the same perimeter check out of habit and both of us also checked the backs of our trousers for our pistols. Our rapid escape from Whitby had meant leaving some of our kit behind. That had included the majority of our weapons cache. We only had about forty rounds between us which was _not_ good.

"Oh, shit!" Shannon breathed as the train pulled into the station.

I followed her glance and saw literally dozens of uniformed Police officers.

"Oh, shit!" I echoed.

* * *

 ** _Shannon with Jamie_**

We were in Coach C of the InterCity 225 train.

Only the locomotive and Coach B had entered the station, along with the first few feet of our coach. I reached up and yanked the emergency stop handle above our seat. The brakes slammed on and at the slow speed the train was moving it stopped quite rapidly.

"Move!" I yelled at Jamie and we both ran towards the opposite end of the train.

We bulldozed our way through Coach D, Coach E, Coach F, Coach H and then through the First Class Coaches, K through L. As we entered Coach M amongst much-annoyed yelling form the other passengers aboard, I yanked the emergency open for the door and forced it open. A few feet below us was open train track and after a quick peek to ensure that we would not be turned into puree, we both dived out the door.

We hit the ground and rolled before regaining our feet and sprinting away from the station.

* * *

 ** _Jamie with Shannon_**

We jumped a fence and slid down an embankment before racing up Leeman Road for a few hundred yards.

"In here!" I yelled at Shannon and we both dived through a set of double doors into a large museum.

Apparently, entry to the museum was free and we both muttered something about our parents already being inside. After a brief scuttle down some stairs, we both burst into an enormous hall with . . .

"Trains!" Shannon exclaimed unhappily.

"Awesome!" I declared as a smile spread from one side of my face to the other.

"Typical boy!" Shannon growled in my ear. "Have you forgotten that half the world is after us?"

"We need to rest after that sprint and I don't know about you, but I'm pooped! What better place than a museum to hide in; hundreds of kids and their parents – we blend in. You could be my big sister . . ."

"Oh, for the love of . . ."

"Got a better idea, Stormtide?"

"No, Rage, I do not!" Shannon admitted somewhat stormily.

Shannon stormed off into the crowds of kids and without much pretending she blended in right away with the other teenaged girls who did not want to be there with their brothers. Me? The place was heaven!

"Oh, wow – The Mallard! Shannon, come take my photo!"

"Oh, brother!" Shannon growled as she pulled her phone from her pocket.

* * *

 ** _Shannon with Jamie_**

We were still in the York National Railway Museum.

The place was secure, for the time being, and Jamie was over the moon – _boys_! The food was a bit on the expensive side but we had not eaten since the previous evening so we stuffed our faces. While we ate, I studied the news reports from around the world, especially the local ones. The only thing of interest was a news piece concerning major drug bust on The Great Lakes, near to Chicago. No specific information about the bust was reported but it sounded cool.

"Anything fun?" Jamie asked through a mouthful of chocolate cake.

"Do you do anything _but_ stuff your face?"

"Not if I can help it," the boy responded honestly.

"Okay. You think they have the Hogwart's Express in here?"

Jamie laughed. "Typical _girl_! Harry Potter? I ask you!"

I felt my face burning.

"I was just trying to find something train related . . ."

I was, honest.

"Okay – nice try but a major fuck up, Shannon, no Harry Potter in here!"

"Tough crowd!" I growled.

* * *

 ** _April 28th, 2014_**

 ** _An unknown location in the USA_**

The following morning, I awoke in my own bed.

Everything appeared normal as I headed for the shower. My right ear hurt, or more precisely, the area behind and below it. I bent my ear back and I looked at my reflection in a mirror. What the hell? There was something there. The area was inflamed and very red but there was something there, it was black and it looked like a knife.

"Morning, Carter!"

I turned to see Damien. Great!

"So, you're one of us now."

A simple statement.

"What?"

"Look behind my right ear," he said as he bent down to my height.

I smirked as I grabbed his ear and yanked it.

"Fucking little cunt!"

There, behind the ear was a knife, just like mine, only it was a commando dagger. I let go of the bully.

"That means you are a real _Predator_ , kid. Welcome to the club. Still gonna beat the crap outta you!"

That proclamation filled me with joy – real joy and then sarcastic joy!

..._...

On the way to breakfast, my path was blocked by two girls. One was about twelve, the other eight.

"Get out of my way!" I growled.

"Jamie? It's us: Rachel and Abigail. Remember?" the taller girl said.

"Do I give a fucking shit who you bitches are? Now move; I'm hungry."

"Okay," the taller one responded – she looked a little hurt by my response. "Your memory'll return, Jamie; it usually takes a day or two. Congratulations, by the way."

"Yeah, congratulations, Jamie," the shorter girl said as they both moved out of my way.

* * *

 ** _Two days later_**

They were right on the money.

My memory was back and I tried to apologise to the two girls but they would not listen. Doofus Damien had begun his usual hate trip against me which was nothing new. However, a major distraction was that we were going on a field trip – by air, no less.

After breakfast, about sixty of us had been handed a small plastic tube containing ear plugs. Then, we were sent to the main auditorium to wait. About twenty minutes later, we heard a loud roar of sound outside the building and then the sound of multiple engines. We were then told to insert our earplugs before were then led out of the auditorium towards the sport's field.

The moment we reached the outside, we were stunned by the sight of a medium-grey C-130 Hercules aircraft. It was busy manoeuvring part way down the five-thousand-foot concrete strip that ran down one side of the sport's field. As we watched in awe, the aircraft finished reversing onto the grass as it performed a three-point turn and then headed towards us before it stopped about a hundred yards away. A hatch, just aft of the cockpit opened and our group was waved aboard. The four propellers still spun noisily.

As we climbed up four steps, we were shown to red canvas seats arranged in four rows part way along the length of the aircraft interior. The centre rows were back to back and faced the sides of the aircraft. The noise was enormous and hand gestures were used to guide us. I found myself seated beside Wilde on the port side of the cavernous aircraft – Rachel was seated several seats away in the centre.

..._...

Once all were aboard, the hatch was closed and we were checked to ensure that we had fastened our harnesses correctly. The aircraft crew wore flight overalls without any insignia despite the aircraft having 'U.S. AIR FORCE' painted above the hatch through which we had climbed aboard. I assumed it was a CIA flight-crew 'borrowing' a USAF Hercules – I did not waste my breath seeking confirmation of my idea.

With a jerk, the engines spun up to a higher speed and the noise got much worse – the ear plugs helped but not all that much. There was a lurch and we began to accelerate forwards. I saw many grins amongst those strapped into their canvas seats as we lifted off into the air and the aircraft banked towards our unknown destination.

The flight lasted barely thirty minutes and we came in steeply to a hard landing and the aircraft taxied fast before coming to a hard stop which threw us all forwards – we loved it!

* * *

After exiting the aircraft, we all found ourselves outside a facility that closely resembled the one that we had just left, only in the distance we could see mountains, instead of our usual nothing.

I followed my fellow _Predators_ into an enormous auditorium, much larger than our own. We took our seats about midway down and a little to the left of the stage. A few seats to our right, there was a group of noisy girls that we assumed were from that training centre. The noisiest one of the group appeared to be a girl of about eight, with long blonde hair. Naturally, our group glared at the home team and they glared at the away team – us.

Wilde scowled at the other girls, especially the cocky looking blonde-haired one. A few derisive comments were exchanged but nothing worse, until I put my foot in it.

"Fucking bunch of lesbians!" I announced cheerfully and I was cheered by my own team.

The blonde-haired girl stood up and she moved towards me, along the aisle. Then she glared down at me with her gunmetal-blue eyes.

"Shut the fuck up, you little twat!"

I had noticed that the girl had a very fluid British accent, much like my own, not to mention a very British vocabulary.

"What if I don't, you minging slut?" I retorted.

"I'll kick your balls so far up your body that you won't start puberty before you're sixty, you little shite!"

"Way to go, Psyche!" another girl, a member of the home team, called out.

"If I wanted a bloody compliment from you, Summers, I would have damn well asked for it . . ."

I saw the girl, Summers, flinch away, despite her being several inches taller than 'Psyche'. Something at the back of my mind latched onto the codename – what was a Phase 1 or Phase 2 _Predator_ doing with a codename?

"Come on, Carter – let's move . . ."

I felt Wilde pulling me away from the girls – the auditorium was _not_ a place for a fight; not with all the instructors present.

..._...

I had no idea why, but the blond-haired girl intrigued me. She was cute – not quite as cute as Wilde but that was another story . . . for another time . . . probably never. The lecture was about some Hit Girl related shit and I heard Chicago mentioned a few times – I had no idea what it was all about as I kept exchanging jokes with Wilde and she kept giggling as a result.

At one stage, I thought that Wilde might actually piss herself, she giggled so much, and she had her hands firmly pressed between her legs. I received a disapproving glance from Rachel, several seats away and many disapproving glances from that Psyche girl. She did not seem to like me – at all!

..._...

I soon forgot all about the blonde-haired girl as we boarded the Hercules for the return trip that afternoon. However, on my return, I heard some raised voices amongst some instructors – something along the lines of 'how the fuck was I meant to know'. I also endured a strongly spoken chat with the Doc. I had no idea what he was talking about but he asked probing questions about the other kids I had met on the trip. Finally, I was released and as I left I heard the Doc on the phone: "He has no idea."

I just shrugged and headed back towards the dining hall – I was starving.


	9. Blood

**_The Present  
Wednesday, June 15th, 2016_**

 ** _Nottingham_**

 ** _Shannon with Jamie_**

I was so very scared.

There was so much more blood than I had expected and I struggled to stem the flow. He had passed out only minutes before as I had struggled to bandage the wound. It had not been easy to carry the deadweight of the nine-year-old the half a mile back to our B&B. Once there, I was able to sneak him in the backdoor and up the stairs to our room.

I lay him on the bed and rapidly pulled off the bandage and his clothes to expose the bullet wound on his left side. As far as surgery was concerned – I had no bloody idea where to start. Minor first-aid was discussed during Phase 3 training; some slightly more advanced skills were also hinted upon. I had watched a video on removing a bullet but I had never expected to ever need to actually do it!

..._...

I ripped open the bag which I had liberated from an unattended paramedic car – I know, crap thing to do, but I needed the kit to save a life. I rifled through it and I found some rubber gloves which I swiftly pulled on. I began to probe the wound, there was only an entry wound – no exit wound. _There_ – it was about an inch inside. As far as I could tell there was a lot of bleeding but the bullet was not touching anything important.

There was no way that I could take Jamie to a hospital or call for an ambulance – we'd both be dead for sure. Instead, I ferreted around in the paramedic bag and I found some gauze and bandages. I also grabbed a pair of sterile forceps. I used some gauze to remove most of the blood which had pooled in the wound while I had probed for the bullet the first time. I probed and found the bullet again then I dug inside the wound with the forceps. It was not easy, by any stretch of the imagination, and I was sweating badly with the concentration.

Finally, I seized hold of the bullet and with some tugging and twisting the slug came out of Jamie's side. I dropped it into some gauze along with the forceps before I cleaned up the wound as well as I could and I wiped all around the wound with a sterile swab. I placed some sterile gauze across the wound and then wrapped a crepe bandage tightly around his stomach to hold the gauze in place.

..._...

There was blood everywhere so I stripped off the rest of his clothes and cleaned him up as best I could before I tucked him under the duvet on one side of the double bed. I then went for a shower to clean myself off. My clothes were covered in the boy's blood and I began to cry. We had only been together a few days but I was not about to lose him. I was no longer alone and his company helped me no end. While I was in the shower I actually began to think about Marc and how much I missed him. As far as I was concerned he was long dead and I had to look forwards.

Forwards to what?

After the shower, I just dived into the bed beside the unconscious Jamie and I was asleep almost instantly.

* * *

 ** _The following morning  
Thursday, June 16th_**

My head hurt when I awoke.

Then that pain was quickly overtaken by the fire in my right side. I forced myself not to scream or cry out with the pain and I looked around me. I was in the bed and beside me, I could see a spray of dark brown hair spread over the pillow next to me. I pushed myself up to a sitting position, my teeth gritted with the pain, and I looked around again.

My eyes froze as they passed over the sleeping Shannon. The thirteen-year-old had gone to bed with only a towel wrapped around her body. During the night, the towel had slipped, as had the duvet. I was able to see the gentle, pale mounds of her breasts topped by small red nipples. They rose and fell as she breathed and my eyes moved down her body across her flat stomach and I stopped at the top of her legs. As I had expected, the girl had a full set of pubic hair which formed a dark inverted triangle and completely covered her vulva.

Shannon was very beautiful to look at on a daily basis when clothed but naked, she was stunning and I so wanted to touch but I did not dare. At that moment, Shannon began to stir and I remained as still as I could. I had a distinct feeling that she would kill me if she caught me ogling her naked body. I saw her smirk but make no attempt to cover herself.

"You enjoying the view, little guy?"

"Err . . ."

Her eyelids flickered open and the hypnotic grey-blue eyes twinkled as they looked up at me. I felt my face getting warm and, I assumed, pink. Shannon sat up and looked down at me. She smirked.

"Yeah – you're enjoying the view!" she giggled and I knew my face would be a deep red in colour.

I had not realised that I was totally naked and neither had I realised that seeing Shannon's body had had an effect on my lower regions. I felt acutely embarrassed and I quickly placed a hand over my dick. Shannon laughed.

"I'm not worried, Jamie. I take boys with erections as a compliment."

..._...

"So . . . err, how am I?" I asked, or rather stammered, desperate to change the subject.

Shannon pulled her towel around her body, covering up her chest and other regions from my view.

"You took a bullet in your side. I had to remove it and disinfect your wound. There was blood everywhere – hence no clothes. You need a shower to wash off the blood. I hope the wound won't open back up; I used some temporary sutures to close the entrance wound up. After your shower, I'll put a fresh bandage on."

"Thanks, Shannon – I really mean that."

Shannon blushed and nodded. I made to get out of bed but I suddenly felt dizzy and I almost fell until Shannon caught me.

"Slowly – you've lost a lot of blood . . . and the rest is in your dick."

"Funny bitch . . ." I growled. "There was blood in them there nipples, earlier – pleasant dream was it?"

Shannon blushed a deep red.

"How'd you know so much about nipples, anyway?" Shannon asked as she helped me through to the bathroom.

"A friend explained to me how girls work – some time back, now."

* * *

 ** _May 14th, 2014_**

 ** _An unknown location in the USA_**

I was in trouble again . . . only I was not alone.

Abigail and I had got ourselves a little caught up in the moment during our time on the range. No harm was done and I'm sure the Range Master had had some spare undies somewhere to replace those he had all but shat in!

After a major grilling during which I was certain I would receive the strap again, we were ordered to attend the Punishment Block to help us understand the error of our ways. We both entered the Punishment Block where we found a yellow dweeb waiting for us. The boy must have only been barely eight and he scowled at the sight of me – a younger kid wearing greys. However, he knew that _he_ was in charge within the Punishment Block.

"Wilde and Carter?" he demanded with a smirk.

"Yes."

"Yes."

"Strip – clothes in the boxes over there."

I knew the drill having given the same orders myself to others such as Rachel. Wilde had never been in the Punishment Block and she was very nervous. She stripped off readily, though, and placed everything in the provided box. I did the same. Once we were both naked, the yellow dweeb wrote our names on the boxes, ran his eyes across Wilde's naked body, and then pointed us towards the open doors of adjoining cages.

"In. If you're both good, I feed you in an hour or so. Have fun!"

With that, the doors were slammed shut behind us and the power-crazed yellow dweeb vanished.

"You used to be one of them, huh?" Wilde asked as she did her best to get comfortable sitting on the bare mattress.

"I did. That was how I met Rachel and ultimately became one of you."

"I really hate being naked; it's something I've never really gotten used to yet."

"It's only five days, Wilde – it'll be fine."

..._...

The food was as good as ever – once it finally arrived. We talked as we ate but otherwise we just stared into nothing. It was only when Wilde got up to make use of the bucket that I suddenly found myself full of questions. I turned away as she sheepishly crouched over the plastic container and I heard the rush of urine hitting the empty bucket.

"This goes way beyond humiliating," Wilde moaned as she finished and wiped herself with some tissues.

"Abigail?"

"Jamie."

"May I ask a question – or three?"

"Go ahead."

"Boys, err . . . do girls . . . awkward . . . do girls play with themselves? I know that boys do but do you check yourself out?"

Abigail's eyes had gone wide and her cheeks were red. She made an effort to cover herself between the legs.

"Sorry – I shouldn't have asked . . ."

"No, Jamie – you just surprised me. I'll tell you anything you want to know about my body. Yes, girls play with themselves – no way as much as boys do; you lot are fiddling with your dicks almost constantly and to be honest, I'm surprised they don't fall off! Girls do touch themselves down there but not often. I don't know about you and your dick, but our, err 'special parts' can be very sensitive and it can hurt when stimulated too much or in the wrong way."

"What do you mean by 'special parts'?"

Wilde went even redder but she sat down close to the bars and spread her legs apart.

"Here . . ."

..._...

Wilde proceeded to take me on an intimate tour of her body, pointing out all the exciting parts, including some of her internal components. Some of the latter had me wincing and I thought it was totally gross – I said so too and Wilde laughed.

"I've only seen inside myself the once and that was with a mirror."

"So, in a few years, you'll get boobs on your chest and hair down there?" I asked.

"I would expect so," Wilde admitted. "You'll get hair too."

"I suppose I will. Thanks, Abigail – you're one in a million."

Wilde grinned. "I know."

..._...

For a moment, I had thought that we might have actually had some fun in the Punishment Block . . .

That was before the door opened and the yellow dweeb ran in and opened the next cell over, beside me. He glanced in my direction but did not smile. Two instructors appeared and they were dragging another Predator for punishment. It was a girl with medium-length, fiery-red hair and she was naked. She was thrown down onto the mattress and then the instructors left and the cage was locked. The yellow dweeb vanished. The girl was in acute distress and as she moved we both saw the vicious red marks on her buttocks – the girl had received the strap, quite a few times.

Then her head turned to face us both and she forced a smile.

 _Rachel!_

* * *

 ** _The Present  
Thursday, June 16th, 2016_**

 ** _Nottingham_**

 ** _Jamie with Shannon_**

The shower made me feel more human but I was still weak and my side hurt like a fucker!

While I enjoyed the hot water, I thought over the disaster of the previous evening. The plan, devised by us both, had been to enlarge our weapons' cache. Only, we had started with two Heckler & Koch P30SK Compact pistols and forty rounds of ammunition at the beginning of the evening, and then, by the end of the night, we had had a grand total of _one_ H &K P30SK and six rounds – plus one rather squished, blood-stained bullet from my own innards. The whole evening had been a bust and we were worse off than we had been at the start – and it was all the fault of . . . guess who?

I had fucked up – the meet was supposed to have been straight forward; we had plenty of cash and we hoped to buy a couple hundred rounds and a couple more pistols . . . Shannon had noticed that something was not going right but little old me, I had missed all the tell tails. It was suddenly obvious that we were going to get ripped off; the seller was unscrupulous and he just saw a pair of kids and not serious buyers. Only, he died when Shannon blew his head off at about the same time that I was shot and I lost consciousness. I must have dropped my pistol as Shannon said it was not on me when she got me back to the B&B.

Shannon had tried to warn me but I was too focussed on the trade and that was how I got shot. I did not even have my hand close to my pistol – rookie mistake! Well, technically, I was still a rookie . . .

The only _good_ result of the entire escapade had been that we had not lost any of our ready cash – I had never really felt as low; well, apart from one time.

* * *

 ** _May 14th, 2014_**

 ** _An unknown location in the USA_**

To say that we were both stunned was a major understatement.

What was Rachel doing there – she had sworn to me that she would never do anything to get herself sent back to the Punishment Block. I moved over as close to Rachel as the bars would allow.

"Why did . . .?" I began.

Rachel looked over at Abigail before she responded and she grimaced.

"I was told to tell you . . . 'you fuck up – _I_ get fucked up' . . ."

I had never felt so low in my life – not once; not even when I was taken and I lost my family.

"Oh, fuck! Rachel . . . I'm so sorry . . . I never . . ."

"Not your fault, Jamie . . ."

Rachel passed out with the pain of her injuries. Abigail was stunned into silence and she had gone very pale – as had I.

..._...

That night, as I slept on the bare mattress with only a thin blanket for warmth, I felt anger building up within me. How could those bastards do such a thing just because _I_ had fucked things up? I had heard Abigail sobbing earlier; she felt just as much to blame as it had actually been _her_ idea to fuck about at the range. Rachel also sobbed, periodically, as she awoke to the pain of her wounds. She would mercifully fall asleep again quite quickly. I longed to be with her . . . to comfort her.

It was the longest night of my life. I resolved to never fuck up again, no matter what fun I missed out on. I didn't care what happened to me; I had endured most of what could be thrown at me . . . and I had survived. But for an innocent girl to suffer because of something that I did – that was just low, very low.

Rachel was my friend, as was Abigail. I would never wish anything on either of them. There was no way that I could get back at 'the establishment' – not without laying Rachel open to more abuse on my behalf. It was all too much for my six-year-old brain to handle and the frustration I felt was unbearable.

I just hoped that one day, _Urban Predator_ would be destroyed and every one of those evil bastards with it!


	10. Moving On Up

**_The Present  
Thursday, June 30th, 2016_**

 ** _Nottingham_**

 ** _Jamie with Shannon_**

Two weeks we had been cooped up, and tempers were getting frayed.

"Will you stop apologising, for fuck's sake!"

" _Okay!_ "

I felt responsible for getting shot and having to rest until I was healed. I felt responsible for losing my pistol. I felt responsible for fucking everything up. Okay – I was getting a little bit down with everything. . . and there was a major feeling of déjà vu!

"I know you hate being cooped up in here but we can't risk making a run for it until you're back to one hundred percent."

"I know, Shannon – I just get so frustrated with everything."

"It can't be helped, Jamie; but it must be hard on you. Anyway, shit happens!"

"I'll try to be a good little boy," Jamie grinned facetiously.

"Like that is ever going to happen!" Shannon snorted.

"Fuck you, bitch!"

* * *

 ** _May 16th, 2014_**

 ** _An unknown location in the USA_**

Two days of doing nothing but talking was getting us down.

Abigail and me, we talked to Rachel to keep her spirits up as best we could. Abigail was horrified by what they had done to Rachel – fourteen it had been, apparently, and full force too by the looks of the welts on Rachel's buttocks. Even the yellow dweeb was less of a pain to us – he hated seeing Rachel's wounds just as much as we did.

Rachel was getting mad with yours truly as I felt so damn guilty.

"Will you stop apologising, for fuck's sake!"

" _Okay!_ "

I felt responsible for what had happened to her – it _was_ my fault after all. Rachel spent a lot of her time on her side or her front – she could not sit and lying down on her back hurt her too much. She would scream herself awake if she accidentally rolled onto her back during the night.

"I expect you to make mistakes, Jamie – your only six. I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to take you on."

"It was my fault, as well, Rachel," Abigail offered for about the tenth time.

"You two are _really_ pissing me off and if it weren't for these damn bars. . .!"

* * *

 ** _Thursday, June 30th, 2016_**

 ** _Nottingham_**

 ** _Jamie with Shannon_**

We had bitched away all day – not that we could do anything else.

Then we had a visit – the landlord!

"Got your money?"

"We'll have to for you . . . tomorrow?" Shannon offered hopefully.

"You said that yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that – you get the picture?"

"Please – we have nowhere to go. Me and my brother will be homeless. . ."

"I'm sorry – I have a business to run here and not a homeless shelter, kids. I'm not heartless – you got four hours and then I come back with the Police."

* * *

 ** _Four hours later. . ._**

"So, what now, doofus?"

"How the fuck am I meant to know; I'm only the 'little boy who fucks up all the damn time'!"

"I didn't mean that, Jamie. . ."

"Bullshit!"

"Fucking little shit!" Shannon growled angrily as she stalked off down the street before turning. "You coming, dickhead?"

"Fuck you, you damn lesbian slapper!" Jamie retorted as she caught up with Shannon.

"Bitchy!" Shannon chuckled as she gave Jamie a hug.

"Get off me. . ."

"Make me, brat . . . fucking ow!"

* * *

 ** _The next morning  
Friday, July 1st_**

 ** _London St Pancras International_**

"We need money."

"Good thinking, Sherlock!"

"Just trying to help – we need somewhere to sleep, tonight."

"You are _so_ full of such wonderful ideas, today!"

...+...

It had not helped the general mood between them that Jamie had awoken on the train that morning after what he had seen as the weirdest of dreams – or maybe should it have been a nightmare, he had thought.

"Fuck!" he had shouted as he'd bolted awake.

Shannon had bolted up too and looked over at her travelling companion. Jamie found himself sitting in the train set and sweating.

"Bad dream?" she had asked.

"Weird. I just saw my sister getting shot – she was in Chicago . . . impossible; I killed her, years ago," Jamie had replied uneasily.

...+...

"Why don't we go _acquire_ some cash?"

"You'd fuck that up, too."

"Would not. . ."

"Would too. . ."

"Not. . ."

"Too. . . stop that!"

Jamie had hold of a large amount of Shannon's long hair.

"Look, Stormy, I'll let you go when you promise to stop fucking with me. . ."

"Alright, just let go of my hair – your hands are filthy – and stop calling me that!"

Jamie released his hold on Shannon's hair and then found himself slammed against the wall.

"Touch my hair again, you little weasel. . ."

"Let go – I have a mark. . ."

"Where?" Shannon asked as she released Jamie.

"You see that youth? He's carrying – may be part of a gang or maybe a drug dealer; could have some cash. . ."

"Not bad, runt; not bad at all."

* * *

 ** _May 21st, 2014_**

 ** _An unknown location in the USA_**

As the yellow dweeb handed us our clothes, we looked back at Rachel – she had another day remaining of her sentence.

The anger inside me was at war with a part of me which knew I had to behave – if only for Rachel's sake. Abigail and me were very subdued as we headed for the dining room and our first proper meal in a week.

..._...

After we had eaten, we headed for our first class that afternoon – close-quarters combat – our favourite! Today was a relative free for all and I quickly partnered up with Abigail who appeared keen to demonstrate to the others that the 'King of Fight Club' was actually a dweeb who had just got lucky.

"You're goin' down, Jamie boy!" she hissed as we both faced off against each other on our mat.

"Don't hurt your fanny, this time!" I retorted and Abigail scowled as her face turned pink and the boy on the next mat laughed.

"You are _so_ going down, Jamie boy."

"Bring it on, little tits. . ."

Abigail lunged forwards and she kicked the younger boy to the floor. Jamie leapt back to his feet and he prepared for another attack from his older friend. There was almost exactly two years between the two kids – not that you might think so as they fought against one another. Abigail was very skilled, but so was Jamie. Both had been predators for a similar amount of time. You would have expected the older, taller, girl to have an edge, but no.

Jamie was able to use his small size to dart from side to side and dodge the strikes and kicks from the older kid. Abigail was well aware of his tactics – she had taught some of them to him and had been around when Rachel had taught him others. Jamie was also aware of that fact so I had learnt to mix and match the tactics so that neither girl knew what might come next. As Abigail threw a punch at him, he grabbed her wrist, twisted and rammed a knee into her unguarded solar plexus.

The eight-year-old screamed and she doubled over onto the floor.

* * *

 ** _Friday, July 1st, 2016_**

 ** _London St Pancras International_**

The youth made his way along the Upper Concourse towards the entrance to platform 1.

He had a single task to perform. He was a courier. That morning, he was carrying a small fortune back to his boss. He would receive £75 for making a successful the delivery and as a result, he would enjoy a fruitful Friday night with his girlfriend. Unfortunately for him, his mind was on what might happen at the end of Friday night and not his surroundings. He never saw the two youngsters approaching him as he stopped to read the nearest departures screen. The youth did, however, feel a hand on his collar followed by something hard in his side.

"In there, move!" came a harsh voice. "Keep your hands where I can see 'em."

The same hand shoved the youth into the disabled toilets where he was pinned up against the tiled wall, facing away from his captors, as a boy slammed the door and locked it.

"Who are you? Do you know who I work for?"

"Do we give a fuck?" the girl replied as she pistol-whipped the youth across the side of his head and he crashed down to the floor.

The boy frisked the youth and he produced a bi-tone pistol.

"Nice – XD MOD.2 four-inch in nine-mill."

"That'll replace the one you dropped!" the girl replied snarkily.

"No more mags . . . but he _does_ have a package . . . ooh . . . must be several thousand quid, here!"

* * *

 ** _Forty minutes later_**

 ** _Regent's Park_**

For the first time in days, they ate like kings.

Both felt very fat as they lay back on the grass and enjoyed the early morning sun. Neither had said a word as they had munched their way through bacon sandwiches, Coke, and copious amounts of chocolate.

"I feel a lot better after that," Shannon commented and she received a loud belch from Jamie in response. "Animal!"

Jamie laughed.

"Who do ya think that money belonged to?" he asked.

"Who cares – we have it, they don't."

"Now that I'm tooled up, what we going to do next?"

"Well, I suppose we need to find somewhere to stay and then we can figure out a long-term plan for our lives," Shannon replied.

"Let's enjoy the sun for a while," Jamie muttered as he dozed.

* * *

 ** _Two days later  
Sunday, July 3rd_**

 ** _Southwark_**

For the first time, in quite a while, I awoke with a smile on my face.

Shannon was still asleep – I liked it when she had her hair down – and she seemed content to sleep, so I left her to it. Nobody was hunting us and for the moment, we had a roof over our heads (a shitty B&B), and we had cash in our pockets. Once Shannon awoke, we could go find some breakfast, but for the moment, I chomped on a Mars and sipped at a can of Dr Pepper.

Before me on the table lay my new pistol. It was not a model that I was familiar with, but the Springfield Armory product was of a high quality and at least it gave me a weapon. I would need to tray and obtain some spare magazines and some more ammunition. On that score, I had two-thousand pounds in my pockets – _all_ in used twenties.

Over dinner the night before, we had discussed setting up a Safehouse where we could stash our stash and also be safe. On that score, we had identified three potential properties which would be very suitable and we would – well, we'd squat for as long as we needed.

* * *

 ** _The following night  
Monday, July 4th _**

**_Mayfair_**

We had decided on a property in a well-to-do neighbourhood where everybody kept themselves to themselves.

The property had decent security which was capable of defeating most crooked individuals – only, we weren't crooked, and we had training that most burglars could only dream about. We gained entry from the roof terrace, five storeys up. We heard the beeping within seconds of our entry and we found ourselves on a spiral staircase. We descended – fast.

 _Third floor – fifty-five seconds remaining._

 _Second floor – fifty-one seconds remaining._

 _First floor – forty-six seconds remaining._

We reached the ground floor and made for the front door. Shannon skidded and fell on the marble floor before she slammed into a wooden panel that was cunningly camouflaged.

 _Thirty seconds remaining._

"Open it!"

Shannon pulled open the panel and we found the master control unit for the alarm. I pulled a small box out of my back pocket and placed it against the panel.

"Twenty seconds. . .!" Shannon warned.

"I know, dammit!"

I pressed a green button on the box and the small box of tricks went to work.

* * *

 ** _May 23rd, 2014_**

 ** _An unknown location in the USA_**

She had been out a day but it was not until the following day that we got to see her.

"You okay, Rachel?" Jamie asked tentatively as the twelve-year-old sat down to lunch across the table from Abigail and Jamie.

"I've been better – a little sore – but, I'll survive."

"I'm. . ."

"If you _dare_. . .!" Rachel hissed and Jamie flinched backwards, away from the older girl.

"Okay," Jamie replied. "I'm _not_ sorry that you got your bare ass strapped and then thrown into the cage."

"You're _not_ sorry!" Rachel growled dangerously.

"But. . ." Jamie tried.

Rachel laughed and so did Abigail.

"You two are such bitches!" Jamie growled.

"Well," Abigail commented. "We are _Predators_ – being a bitch is kind of a pre-requisite.!

"Jamie – just promise me to be on your guard and watch what you're doing; okay?"

"I will – I promise," Jamie replied – and he really meant it.

* * *

One pastime available to _Predators_ was swimming.

There was an immense swimming pool which had various uses. Every _Predator_ was taught to swim and an aspiring _Predator_ could not progress from Phase 1 to Phase 2 without being a competent swimmer. Understandably, due to certain parts of their training, some _Predators_ hated the pool and stayed away from it during their free time.

Jamie was not a strong swimmer, but neither did he sink like a brick. Due to his string nature, he had refused to allow the repetitive dunking to put him off swimming – something he had always enjoyed.

"Why are we doing this?" Abigail demanded as the three of them reached the poolside. "I hate water."

"It'll help you to relax," Jamie explained. "You look tense."

"Of course, I'm tense!" Abigail retorted. "I've just spent a week in a sodding cage with a six-year-old halfwit!"

"Tetchy!" Rachel laughed as she sat down on the side of the pool and dangled her feet in the water. "The water will help sooth my aching bones. . ."

Jamie laughed.

"You're twelve, not seventy, Rachel," Jamie reminded his friend before he cannonballed into the water.

"Little brat!" Abigail growled, refusing to be upstaged by a boy two years her junior.

She jumped in after Jamie and did her best to duck the boy but he dodged her half-hearted attempts as Rachel laughed.

* * *

 ** _Friday, July 8th, 2016_**

 ** _Mayfair, London_**

We had been in our new digs a week without any problems.

Most of the time had been spent recuperating from our mad dash around the country. We had cleaned ourselves up and bought new clothing. Shannon had bought makeup – I didn't think she needed it, but who was I to judge – I was only eight. We had also decided to improve our cashflow and also to see if we could acquire some more weapons and equipment. That would not be an easy set of tasks; it was not just a simple matter of ordering some guns and ammo from Amazon!

It was Shannon's plan and while I didn't really agree with it, I couldn't come up with a good enough excuse not to go along with it. Our target was purely random and two nights of surveillance had provided us with him. His behaviour had also provided Shannon with an 'in', as she termed it. The target was probably in his very late teens, or maybe into his early twenties. Either way, he was a creep, a pervert, a dickhead. . . take your pick – or maybe just select all of the above!

I had rolled my eyes at Shannon's choice of clothing for the night out; to me she had looked like a tart, but again, who was I to judge – I was only eight!

* * *

 ** _Deptford, London_**

The two of us were south of the River Thames in a very shitty part of London.

Even as a _Predator_ , I did not feel very safe and that was saying something! The place creeped me out, especially the estate where we were walking, in pitch darkness. We were heading for Convoys Wharf – a derelict and mostly cleared former Royal Dockyard which was now a stretch of open concrete awaiting planning permission for new residential premises. It was also a location for certain types of individuals who tended to only come out after dark – druggies, 'escorts', rent boys, and prostitutes.

We were not vigilantes, so we had no crazy ideas on trying to tidy up the city – that was somebody else's problem. We kept to the shadows as we made our way up Dacca Street on the outskirts of Convoys Wharf. We passed a few groups of people – older teens on a night out, some dubious individuals in hoodies, and the usual wankers who took one look at my partner and wolf-whistled . . . despite her best efforts, Stormy was blushing wildly.

Stormy was wearing the shortest skirt I had ever seen and you could just about see her knickers without bending down too far. It was lucky the night was warm as her top exposed her entire mid-riff and showed _way_ too much skin in my opinion. She wasn't wearing a bra and I could make out her nipples pushing their way through the thin material on her top. Her long hair was all up and even I had to admit that she looked very beautiful – if a bit hussy-like. She had considered some high-heels, but changed her mind as she knew that we might be running for our lives at some point if all went to shit like it usually did!

..._...

Our target turned up a few minutes later than usual. He was checking out every bit of skirt he could see and his leering expression was creeping out ever female who passed – including Shannon. Maybe she was having second thoughts and I would not have blamed her for heading back to our Mayfair Safehouse.

As the creep approached us, Shannon stepped out under a streetlight and she allowed the light to show off her very long legs which, as expected, almost instantly gained the attentions of the sleazy tosser as he came closer.

"Well, little lady, those are some perfect legs – wow. . ."

I could see his eyes working their way up Shannon's legs and not stopping until they reached her crotch. I saw Shannon struggling to keep her cool and allow her training to take over. She was successful in removing the cringe from her face – she smiled to cover up her embarrassment at the creep's leering expression. To make it even worse, his left hand openly massaged his groin. Shannon allowed him to get closer until he reached out and touched her left breast – she slapped him.

Creepy bastard just smiled. While he studied Shannon's feminine assets, I concentrated on _his_ assets. He had a bulge at the back of his trousers which indicated a weapon. There was also a bulge in the right pocket of his trousers which indicated a possible knife. Most importantly, he was wearing a vest under his jacket. By vest, I meant a whole load of pockets which we _hoped_ would be stuffed with cash.

..._...

I had wondered how far Shannon was going to take it before she signalled me to act. Personally, I thought she was enjoying herself just a bit too much! Then came her signal just as she had successfully manoeuvred the creep out of the streetlights and into the darkness beside some lockup garages. She kneed him sharply in the bollocks and as the creep doubled over, I took the butt of my pistol across the back of his head having loitered in the darkness with Shannon taking his attentions away from his surroundings.

With practiced ease, we both stripped the creep of a small Beretta pistol, a flick-knife, and a large quantity of cash.

* * *

 ** _The following morning  
Saturday, July 9th_**

 ** _Oakland Quay, Canary Wharf_**

"That's two in two weeks and over eighteen-thousand-pounds!"

"Yes, Boss – we have no idea who, but both couriers were mugged."

"Are we being targeted?"

"No idea, Boss. . ."

"Well you had better go and fucking find out then!"

* * *

 ** _END OF PART I_**

 ** _of_**

 ** _PREDATOR_**


	11. Hunted

**_PART II_**

 ** _of_**

 ** _PREDATOR_**

* * *

 ** _Sunday, 10th July, 2016_**

 ** _London, United Kingdom  
Mayfair_**

"Yeah," Jamie agreed as he took a bite out of his toast with Marmite.

"That is _so_ disgusting, on _so_ many levels," Shannon complained as she wrinkled her nose.

Jamie just opened his mouth so Shannon could see the mass of Marmite on toast as he chewed.

"You are a disgusting little rat!"

"At least we agree on _something_ , Stormy!"

Shannon gave up and she just growled as Jamie laughed.

* * *

 ** _Oakland Quay, Canary Wharf_**

 ** _The office of William Frasier,  
Managing Director, Scorpio Enterprises_**

"That's all you got. . . _fucking nothing_!"

"We're still investigating, Boss – we have extra security on all couriers."

"Why the fuck, do I waste my money on you useless bloody tossers!"

"Yes, Boss!"

* * *

 ** _Nottingham_**

"Yeah, I had a girl and her brother staying here for a couple of weeks. Had to give them their marching orders, so to speak, when they stopped payin' me for the room. They left a bloody mess, too – I had to ditch the mattress; blood on it, see."

"Were they hurt?" the tall man asked urgently.

"Didn't look like it, but I likes to give my tenants some privacy."

"If anything happens to those kids, then I'm coming back for you."

The landlord cringed as he saw the dark eyes burn into his own for almost a full minute before the man turned and vanished down the street.

* * *

 ** _That night_**

 ** _Lambeth Palace Gardens_**

 ** _Shannon and Jamie_**

"It's a bit dark."

"You scared of the dark, you little shit?"

"You scared of me slapping you, Stormy?"

"Stop – calling – me – that!

"Or what?"

"Or I rip your balls off and turn you into a little girl."

"I would sure like to see you try. . ."

After another fifteen minutes of sniping at each other, their mark for the evening came into view.

..._...

As before, the courier was alone. The Park was dark, but with the paths dimly lit. The night was warm but a little muggy, so most people wore very little to combat the heat. The mark for the night was a young woman in her late teens and she was walking very purposely towards Waterloo Station. Over her right shoulder was a small rucksack which was like many that women carried as a handbag. To anybody looking, she was just a young woman headed home, or maybe out to meet a boyfriend.

The two waiting _Predators_ knew differently. Both knew the plan, so no words needed to be spoken. Jamie was hidden in darkness where he could not be seen by the mark. Shannon moved closer, but headed in the opposite direction to the mark. As they came closer, to within a dozen yards, Shannon moved to intercept.

Then the mark looked directly at Shannon – the mark smiled. Jamie and Shannon both sensed the danger – it was a trap!

* * *

 ** _Eighty yards to the east_**

 ** _Trevor Turner  
Head of Security, Scorpio Enterprises_**

"It's the girl – she's the one attacking us!"

"Is she alone?" Turner demanded.

"Looks like it – she's moving to intercept Tricia."

"Oh, shit!"

"What?"

"I think Tricia's given the fucking game away!"

"Move in – everybody!"

* * *

 ** _Shannon and Jamie_**

Shannon's mind was working overtime.

Were they rumbled?

Was it just her imagination?

Were they in danger?

Could they still pull off the strike?

The mark was just feet away but then Shannon saw the blade appear out of nowhere into the mark's right hand. In response, she slapped her left thigh with her left hand – the danger signal – as she simultaneously reached for her own blade with her right. The edge of the blade caught on the bottom of her jacket, slowing the draw. The mark brought her blade across in a horizontal arc – Shannon arched her back and the blade passed inches from the tip of her nose. The mark made to adjust, but Shannon brought her own blade into play and slashed at the passing woman, catching the small rucksack and severing the strap, allowing the bag to fall to the ground.

..._...

Forty yards away, Jamie made to support Shannon, having seen the danger signal, but then he heard pounding feet on the dry grass of the park and turned to see eight men heading in Shannon's direction. He had not been detected – yet. . . He felt nervous, but pushed it down as he rechecked his XD MOD.2 pistol – he had fifteen rounds available and no spare magazine. They had not planned to use firearms as they knew that it would only bring the Metropolitan Police into the fight – something to be avoided at all costs.

Jamie kept to the shadows, trying to figure out what he should do. Then one of the approaching men made the decision for him, just as Shannon put the mark down on the ground. The man pulled a pistol and he sent several rounds downrange towards Shannon. In response, Jamie dropped the man with a single shot and then dropped the next man before he, himself, came under fire.

Shannon and Jamie both dove for cover, Shannon drawing her own pistol and kicking the mark unconscious. She grabbed up the discarded bag as she ran past towards the nearest trees.

* * *

 ** _Scorpio_**

The attack by Jamie had come as a very rude surprise to the men as two of their number had suddenly gone down hard to some very accurate gunfire.

The remaining men scattered and hit the ground, rolling into the shadows. None of them had any idea where the shots had come from, but either way, Jamie was yards away from his firing point and he was ready for another attack. The men stared into the darkness trying to pick up any hint of movement.

Then the sirens began to wail.

* * *

 ** _Jamie_**

Jamie worked his way around to the east end of the gardens, toward the railway lines about 240 yards distant.

After about eighty yards, he skidded on his knees into some bushes as he heard feet coming towards him – three men ran past; all carried overt firearms. His brain was overloaded with everything that had suddenly taken place. He filed away the two dead men; they were not important. Shannon – where was she? What should he do? Should he make a break for it?

So many damned questions and so few answers. . .

* * *

 ** _Shannon_**

Everything had gone to crap!

She had heard the pistol shots – was Jamie still alive? Two men had gone down; she had seen those events in her peripheral vision as she had run for deeper cover in the trees. There were the sounds of running, some screaming – and the sounds of approaching sirens. She had to find Jamie and then get them both the hell out of there.

The noise helped to cover her movements as she made for the south-east corner of the gardens. As she went, she scanned for movement and any sounds nearby that might be an ambush or some other unwelcome surprise. Shannon was very worried – the mark had turned on her; how had she known? How _could_ she have known? All she and Jamie had done was knock over a few couriers . . .

Shannon cringed and aimed her pistol as she heard rustling in the bushes beside her.

* * *

 ** _Jamie_**

Finally, he thought, he was almost out of the damn place.

The railway was close and he knew that he could lose any tails as he wound his way up towards Waterloo Station. The boy had used his small size to allow him to keep to the shrubbery borders, but then, he heard movement ahead. In response, he froze for a moment and then steeled himself to move.

With pistol in hand, aimed ahead of him, he burst out of the shrubbery and almost immediately, he collided with something. He heard a scream as he fell to the ground, but quickly brought up his pistol and he found himself staring down the barrel of P30SK pistol.

"For fuck's sake, Jamie!"

"Hi, Stormy!"

* * *

 ** _Jamie and Shannon_**

Jamie was very surprised to find himself being hugged tightly.

"Are you okay? Any injuries?"

"Nah – I'm fine, thanks – get off me!"

"Let's move, Rage!"

The two _Predators_ ran out onto Lambeth Road where they rapidly stowed their pistols as a Metropolitan Police BMW surged past, siren screaming and blue lights flashing. They turned east and jogged towards the railway overpass and just as they thought they were in the clear, a bullet struck the parapet about a foot above Shannon's head. They both broke into a run. Shannon looked back and saw six men in pursuit.

After running through the tunnel beneath the railway, they turned left at the next lights and headed north up Hercules Road. A screech of tyres a few yards behind announced that a vehicle was pursuing them. Shannon dived behind a low brick wall, pulling Jamie with her. The first pair of men to approach were dropped with single shots to the chest. In response, a large Range Rover skidded to a halt and the remaining men took cover behind the 4x4.

"We don't have the rounds for a firefight!" Jamie pointed out to Shannon.

"I fucking know that!" she retorted angrily.

Jamie kept his head down as bullets pinged off the brickwork behind them sending sharp pieces of brick on top of them.

"Crap!" Shannon almost screamed as a Ford Mondeo screeched to a halt a mere twenty yards behind them having come out from under the railway via another tunnel.

..._...

Shannon and Jamie jumped up, sprinting towards the car. They had to head off the occupants of the car before they could open fire on them. Bullets struck the ground around them as the men around the Range Rover continued to shoot – at least until somebody told them to stop for fear of hitting their own people.

Three people exited the Mondeo – two men and a woman. Jamie jumped up onto the bonnet of a convenient Fiat and he launched himself at the woman as he drew a knife. The boy's feet struck the woman in the chest and she was shoved backwards into the road. Jamie did not hesitate as he smacked his pistol into the surprised woman's face. He followed up by driving his knife into her chest. She screamed out and threw Jamie off her and into the path of an approaching Transit van which slammed on its brakes as Jamie quickly rolled out of the way.

Shannon was taking on the two men, the first had been shot in the left shoulder while his colleague had struck out at Shannon's pistol which had fallen to the pavement beneath them. Shannon drew her knife and slashed out at the closest man, catching him on the arm. He backhanded her out of instinct and then came at her. Shannon deflected his punches before wrapping a leg around his neck and dragging him down to the pavement where she drove her blade through his skull.

Then a hand grasped the back of her top and yanked her into the air.

..._...

Jamie sprung up and once back on his feet he found himself on the opposite side of the road to Shannon. The woman he had stabbed sat on the pavement leaning against a lamppost as she held a hand against the knife wound. She did not see Jamie as he ran across the road and jammed his knife into the left side of her throat. He twisted the knife, first one way, and then the other. Blood flowed out as the carotid artery was torn apart. Jamie jumped away from the flowing blood and ran towards Shannon who was just being yanked into the air by a bull of a man wearing a suit.

"Put her down, you fucking bastard!" Jamie yelled out.

The man smiled and shook his head in disbelief as he dragged the kicking Shannon towards the Ford Mondeo. Then the man stopped and gave Jamie a patronising look. Jamie stood stock still, his pistol held out in front of him in both hands.

"Put – her – down."

The words were slow and steady. Jamie was in full control of his emotions and his hands were rock steady as he aimed for the man's forehead. The man dropped Shannon, but kept a hold of her left arm, tightly enough to make Shannon grimace with the pain.

"Or you'll what?" the man sneered.

Jamie did not reply – well, not in a spoken manner – he just squeezed the trigger on what he knew was his last round.

* * *

 ** _July 8th, 2014_**

 ** _An unknown location in the USA_**

"You will all learn to use your weapons. You will learn to look after your weapons. You will learn to fix your weapon in the field. You will learn weapons' safety. You will learn so damn much your tiny brains will fucking implode."

It was a re-run of what we all knew, but weapons' safety was critical to any armed organisation and _Urban Predator_ was no exception. Partly it was the fault of Abigail and Jamie for almost shooting an instructor by accident – either way, all _Predators_ were going through a refresher course. For Jamie, it was important as he was lagging behind some of the older Phase 1 kids.

"What do you do if you weapon jams?" the instructor demanded to the class.

"You die?" Abigail quipped.

There was a little laughter from the class.

"She might me a fucking smart-ass, but she ain't far wrong. Jams are usually preventable, but shit happens. It could be a dodgy round, or you not cleaning your weapon – or any one of a hundred different things. Right, clever dick – answer the damn question!"

"Slap your magazine to ensure it is secure. Rack the action to clear any round stuck in the breech or not ejected fully. If that doesn't work, you need to lock back the action and remove your magazine, then you can rack the action violently several times," Abigail replied with a big smile to finish.

"Fucking smart-ass! Otherwise, correct. You each hold a magazine with a mixture of live rounds and spent cases. When you have a misfire, you will follow the drill – or so help you God!"

..._...

Jamie moved to the firing point and he unholstered his weapon, placing it down on the firing point. No messing about; Jamie was one hundred percent professional, as was Abigail. They both loaded their weapons and then pulled back their slides before releasing the slides to spring forwards, stripping off the top round.

"Commence firing!"

Jamie and Abigail both opened fire at the same moment. After the third round, Jamie's pistol misfired. He tapped the magazine and racked back the slide. A spent casing flew out and landed on the firing point beside him.

"Good – carry on!" came the instructors voice as he felt a hand on his right shoulder.

Jamie opened fire again, just as Abigail struggled with her own jam. She cleared it – or she seemed to – and continued to fire. Then the air was rent with a loud bang and then screaming. Jamie automatically safed his weapon as he turned to his right to find Abigail writhing on the floor in agony. She was cradling her right hand in to her chest with her other hand. Her pistol lay on the floor beside her – the slide was partially back and the right side of the slide was twisted outwards and badly cracked.

An instructor rushed over after hitting a panic alarm. He grabbed hold of Abigail and forced her hands apart. Her right hand was black and there was blood in evidence. The eight-year-old was screaming as two more instructors came running and after wrapping a gauze bandage around her hand, they whisked Abigail off to the hospital wing. The remaining instructor picked up her discarded pistol and dumped it into a sand bunker, covering it up with sand. He left a red marker flag on the spot.

"That, class, was what is known as a catastrophic barrel failure – not fun. Assuming Wilde still has a hand to shoot with, she'll pay better attention to clearing her weapon in future."

* * *

 ** _Sunday, 10th July, 2016_**

 ** _London, United Kingdom  
Lambeth_**

Nothing happened.

Jamie almost began the automatic task of clearing his weapon but there was no time – he threw it at the man and dove for Shannon's fallen P30SK which he scooped up and fired in one smooth movement. Thought his aim was off, the man grabbed hold of his left shoulder and he ran for cover. Shannon fired a round into the Mondeo's windscreen as she made to run.

"Run!" Shannon yelled as she grabbed Jamie's arm and roughly pushed him ahead of her, down the road towards Waterloo Station.

Shannon knew that they could not escape using the roads. They could hear vehicles moving as they ran. A few hundred yards further on, they made to dive under the railway again but they saw a vehicle stop at the far side and men ran towards them. They had only seconds to act. The railway was thirty feet or so above them.

"Climb!" Shannon growled and she pushed Jamie at the brick wall to the left of the roadway. There were cables clipped to the brickwork and these provided a way to climb the sheer thirty-foot wall. Jamie scampered up with ease as Shannon followed.

Then the men appeared.

..._...

Bullets began to strike the steel bridge front and the brick wall.

"Move it!" Shannon yelled as Jamie swung out to return fire.

There was no choice, Shannon swung past Jamie and continued to climb. She made it to the top of the brickwork and swung over the top to safety. She looked down and was very relieved to see that Jamie was only a few feet below her. As soon as he was high enough, Jamie passed up the pistol so he could climb faster and Shannon could cover him. Then the cable he was climbing began to come away from the brickwork. Shannon reached down and grabbed Jamie's left hand.

"I've got you – climb!"

Jamie struggled to regain grip on something that was fixed and then his feet slipped leaving all his weight on his left hand held by Shannon. Despite his small size, the boy was heavy. Jamie's sweaty hand began to slip in Shannon's equally sweaty one.

"Climb, you little bastard, climb!"

"I am – _don't drop me_. . ."

Shannon pulled with all her might but then Jamie yelled out as bullets impacted the brickwork around him.

" _Jamie!_ "

Shannon felt his small hand slipping through her own despite all her attempts to hang on tight. She returned fire but she needed both hands to haul him up. She threw the pistol down behind her and reached for his other hand, but it was too late.

"Shannon . . .!"

" _JAMIE!_ "

Jamie fell . . .


	12. Solitude

**_Sunday, 10th July, 2016_**

 ** _London, United Kingdom  
Lambeth_**

Shannon fired at the men below until her pistol fell silent.

The last she had seen of her fellow Predator was his prone body being pushed into the back of a Range Rover – then he was gone . . . As she sank down behind a building at the raised track level, she began to sob.

Jamie was gone; she'd lost him – forever?

* * *

 ** _The following morning  
Monday, 11th July_**

 ** _An unknown location_**

Pain rushed through his body as he came awake.

It took all his willpower not to call out. He knew that he was in danger. He knew that he had to take control of the situation. He struggled to make sense of his surroundings without opening his eyes.

He was lying on something relatively soft – a mattress? He tentatively moved his hands – they were free! His ankles too – that was a surprise; did they not know what he was capable of? He listened. There was the very faint sound of vehicles. Were they close by, or far away? Then he froze as he heard a bolt being withdrawn very close to him. He heard a door being opened and . . . he screamed.

Jamie shivered with the cold as the water splashed over him. His eyes flew open and he completed a rapid scan of his surroundings. He was in a small room, maybe eight-foot square. A single strip light illuminated the room from the ceiling. The door was at his feet, there was a window over to his right – it was boarded over with rough-cut planks of wood. He had no way to tell if it was night and day. Finally, he looked at himself; he was wearing nothing more than his underwear.

"Get up, you little bastard!" the man holding an empty glass jug shouted.

Jamie swung his legs off the bed and stood up, but before he could do anything, the man shoved him roughly and the boy fell to the floor in a heap.

"Get dressed, boy – and no funny business."

Jamie's trousers and top were on the floor in a corner along with his trainers and his jacket. Once he was dressed, he checked his pockets as the man smirked. Everything was gone; knife, cash, pistol – everything.

"Move!"

Jamie was shoved out of the door and down a corridor.

* * *

 ** _Mayfair_**

Shannon had been crying most of the night.

She was berating herself at every opportunity. She had been in charge. She had been the eldest. She had been the Phase 3 _Predator_. How could she have fucked up so badly? Was he even alive? As she looked across the bedroom and saw his bed – she felt pangs of guilt push her to tears again. She had to find him – somehow.

She suddenly remembered the bag – the bag which she had seized during the previous night's altercation.

* * *

 ** _Dartford_**

Two hours later, she was standing outside a small block of flats in north Dartford about fifteen miles to the east of London. Shannon matched the address with the driving licence she held in her hand. The photo was rubbish but there was enough detail to recognise one Tricia Dewey who lived in Flat 0/3 on the ground floor. The day was warm, so as expected, Shannon found an open window for the correct flat and after a brief check, she slipped inside.

Shannon found herself in the living room of a small two-bedroom flat. Immediately, she heard a voice. The voice was coming from the kitchen. Slowly, with her suppressed pistol in hand, she set foot into the kitchen and she found a young woman, a few years older than herself. The woman was making a cup of tea while she chatted animatedly into her mobile.

"Look, Marie, I need to go sit down with my cuppa and watch Saturday's X-Factor – see ya t'morrow . . . love ya."

As the woman slid he mobile onto the kitchen side, she froze as she felt something cold touching her left temple.

"Move a fucking muscle and you gain a new earhole, missy!" came a none-too-friendly growl as Shannon forced the girl to her knees. "Name?"

"Ra . . . Rachel . . . Rachel Dewey."

"Tricia is your sister?"

"Yes," Rachel confirmed.

"Where is she?"

"In the shower. . ."

Shannon secured Rachel's mouth with Duct Tape and secured her hands with plastic tie wraps. Shannon then hauled her into the living room and secured her to a wooden-framed chair by the wrists, arms, lower legs, and ankles.

Shannon closed the open window and then she went to retrieve her target.

..._...

Tricia was just finishing her shower and as she turned off the water, she pulled back the shower curtain and reached for her towel . . . then her world turned upside down as something went around her neck and she was hauled out of the shower and onto the floor.

"Move your fucking ass, bitch!"

Tricia had no idea what was happening to her as she found herself being dragged by a rope which was wrapped tightly around her neck. She was still dripping wet from the shower and she was stark bollock naked. Her mind was racing – but not as fast as it might normally; the previous night's events had knocked back her confidence somewhat. Being attacked in her own home was something that she had never considered – she was protected, thanks to her employer. Then she had a thought – Rachel; where was Rachel?

Shannon took advantage of the dazed girl and secured her in much the same way as she had her sister. Only then did Shannon close all the curtains and flex her muscles.

..._...

"I think you remember me, Tricia – I kicked your stinking ass, last night."

Recognition swept across the girl's face which still showed the bruises from the previous night. The girl's eyes blazed fire at Shannon.

"We can do this the hard way, or the easy way . . . but first, I think I had better show you both what the hard way consists of. . ."

Without warning, Shannon produced a short-bladed knife and she sunk the three-inch blade into Rachel's right thigh, well away from any artery. Rachel attempted to scream but what emerged was muted by the tape across her mouth. Tricia looked appalled but then her expression shifted to a seething glare as she focussed on Shannon. Shannon ignored the look and she just smiled at the two young women.

"Now I have your attention, I want to know where he is. _Where is the boy?_ "

Shannon yanked the tape off of Tricia's mouth, placing the muzzle of her suppressed pistol against her forehead.

"What boy?" Tricia hissed.

Shannon seized hold of the woman's jaw and she squeezed. A small scream was heard and then another as Shannon tapped the girl hard on the head with the suppressor.

"Don't act stupid!"

"I'm not. . ." Tricia hissed.

Shannon pistol-whipped Rachel across the face sending blood spraying across the room.

"Stop it – don't hurt her, please . . . they'll kill me if I say anything."

"I'll kill you if you don't, you fucking bitch."

Shannon fired off a single round into Rachel's left foot. The woman's eyes bulged out with the pain and she shook as tears flooded down her face and she screamed – albeit mutedly. Another bullet went into Tricia's left foot just as Rachel slammed a cushion in her face to mute the scream. Shannon eased the cushion slightly so as not to suffocate the young woman who attempted to breathe through the pain – Rachel had passed out.

"Look, I'll cut you a deal – you tell me where the boy is and I'll call an ambulance for you both."

Tricia knew there was no way out.

"He's with them – he's with Scorpio. That bastard, Turner, will have the boy – he's the head of security; you need to go see Trevor Turner."

..._...

Twenty minutes later, Shannon had everything she needed. The two young women were in a bad way as they lay on the floor of the living room, hugging each other.

Tricia appeared relieved as Shannon picked up Tricia's mobile and dialled.

 _"999: what's your emergency?"_

Shannon grinned as she saw the hope in Tricia's eyes.

"Police . . . I'd like to report a double murder. . ."

Before Tricia could do anything, Shannon shot both women in the head – one bullet each. She dropped the mobile to the floor and left the flat.

 _"Hello – is anybody there?"_ came the voice of the 999 Operator. _"Is anybody there?"_

* * *

 ** _The following morning  
Tuesday, 12th July_**

 ** _Dartford_**

There were murmurings amongst the attending Metropolitan Police officers as a silver Jaguar XJL pulled up in the centre of the road, just a stone's throw from the grisly crime scene.

Out of the Jaguar stepped a tall man in a dark suit with a dark blue tie. The balding man was in his late fifties and he wore glasses. His beard was white and his face bore a worn expression. As he approached the crime scene, he was intercepted by a uniformed constable with a clipboard.

"May I see some identification, please, sir?"

The dark-suited man smiled and produced his warrant card.

"Commander Haig, SO15 – I would like to speak with whomsoever is in charge, if you please, constable."

"Yes, sir – that would be DI Baxter, sir – he's just over there by the begonias."

..._...

The grizzled Detective Inspector frowned as he saw the dark-suited man head in his direction. The Jaguar dictated that the man was important. The fact that the uniformed constable had passed him through quickly, showed that the man held rank which was evident by the way he strode confidently across the lawn outside the flats.

"DI Baxter?"

"Yes . . . sir."

"Commander Haig, SO15 – may I have a look at the crime scene? We believe that it may be of interest to us."

"Why might a double murder be of interest to Counter Terrorism Command?" DI Baxter asked as he smelt a rat.

"Sorry – need to know, old boy."

* * *

 ** _Mayfair_**

Shannon had slept well after her activities on the previous afternoon.

There was something about taking a person's life that invigorated the girl. Her worries about losing Jamie had dimmed slightly as she had basked in the afterglow of the double killings. She had not forgotten Jamie – not by any stretch of the imagination – he was just pushed into the background while she planned his rescue.

Jamie was a _Predator_ and therefore he was perfectly capable of looking after himself – to an extent. Worrying about the boy would only hinder her planning and ultimately, his rescue.

* * *

 ** _Oakland Quay, Canary Wharf_**

Pain surged through Jamie as he was struck again.

It had been going on since the previous morning. Only, the men were getting rather annoyed with the young boy who did not seem to be cowering before them as they had expected a boy of his age should. Little did they know that Jamie had been through such rigorous episodes of conditioning and to be honest he was getting bored with it all.

"The bloody kid isn't human," Kevin growled as he shoved the boy to the floor. "He should be a fucking snivelling mess, for fuck's sake!"

"Bunch of fucking pussies!" Jamie hissed as he wiped the blood from his nose and mouth. "I'm eight and I just survived your little – what exactly was it?"

Kevin and his partner, Jack, were grown men who were used to beating up other grown men and maybe the occasional woman. However, beating up a small boy – even one who toted and automatic pistol – was not their kind of thing, so they had just roughed him up a bit in an attempt to scare the boy into revealing something.

The boy was an enigma and their boss demanded answers.

..._...

William Fraser sat up in his chair as the door opened and three people entered the room. Two were his enforcers, Kevin and Jack, while the third was a rather dishevelled young boy. Fraser studied the boy for a few moments as the door was closed. The boy stared insolently up at the powerful man in return.

"Is this the boy who has been fucking up my organisation?"

"Yes, boss."

"Is this the boy who shot down my men in cold blood?"

"They shot first – self-defence. . ." Jamie began insolently before Kevin slapped him around the head.

"Is this the boy who stabbed Sandra leaving her to bleed out?"

"She had it coming. . . Ow! Stop fucking hitting me, you fucking cunt!"

"What are you, boy?" Fraser asked sagely.

"I'll show you. . ."

* * *

 ** _Canary Wharf_**

The teenage girl stared through binoculars at the premises owned by Scorpio Enterprises.

Scorpio Enterprises had its fingers in many pies. Private security, banking, shipping, and retail being a sample of their more legal activities. The fact that the organisation employed gun-toting thugs was a sure indication that the organisation had a darker side. Shannon knew that she would have to tread carefully or she would die very quickly – Scorpio Enterprises had also proven that they were not scared of killing at the drop of the proverbial hat.

Security for their head office was, as would be expected, impressive. Shannon had already identified three plain-clothed guards who were all covertly armed which contravened the Firearms Act. The visible electronic surveillance was also top notch. Shannon needed to investigate the inside of the building . . . but that would require great skill, she thought to herself.

No big deal – she was a _Predator_ ; she _had_ 'great skill'.

* * *

 ** _Oakland Quay, Canary Wharf_**

Jamie rammed his left elbow into Kevin's knackers and his right fist into Jack's nose as he bounded forwards and dived onto Fraser's capacious wooden desk, sweeping up a letter opener as he went.

Fraser was momentarily stunned as the pint-sized boy temporarily incapacitated his enforcers and then came for him with a look of extreme hate and intense anger on his face. Fraser saw something in those brown eyes – a darkness that he usually only saw in those eyes belonging to his paid killers.

The boy was another one, he thought as he reached for his top drawer. . .

"No you don't, grandpa!" Jamie growled as he kicked Fraser in the face and then yanked the drawer open, guessing correctly what Fraser had been reaching for.

Jamie pulled out a nine-millimetre Browning Hi-Power and he racked back on the slide, seeing a shiny brass cartridge being stripped off the top of the magazine and then swept on into the breech of the pistol. He raised the heavy pistol unerringly towards William Fraser and he squeezed the trigger.

"Game over, pal!"

There was a tremendous crash – just not the expected crash of the Hi-Power – as Jamie fell off the desk and onto the floor, his body twitching from the two dart-like electrodes which had pierced the skin of his back and sent crippling electroshocks through his body.

Whilst all eyes had been on the pistol, nobody had watched the letter opener which had been held in Jamie's left hand and nobody thought anything of it until Kevin lowered the discharged Taser and he saw the spreading redness in his boss's right side. In the centre of the redness was the silver hilt of the letter opener.

* * *

 ** _A few hours later. . ._**

Jamie had no idea how long he had been out, but as he opened his eyes he felt pain in his extremities and with a start, he realised that he was lying on a very hard and a very cold concrete floor wearing nothing but his underwear. He was in a cell – the steel door told him that. So did the resounding clang of the bolt as it was shifted and the door was pushed open. As he tried to stand, he found that his wrists were bound behind his back.

"Right, you little fuck – we've found a buyer for you and the Boss got a lot more for you than he had originally anticipated; your skills helped with that," Kevin chuckled as he hauled the boy to his feet.

"What?"

"The Boss wanted to keep you – just like the girl, but not anymore – you're going to wish that you were never fucking born, you little bastard."

..._...

Jamie was dragged out of the cell.

His mind was racing – the muscle had mentioned a girl; did they have Shannon? What was going on? Where were they taking him? His mind drifted and he had a vague recollection of a familiar voice talking to him while he had been unconscious.

 _"How do we get ourselves into these messes, Jamie? Stay strong, please. I know you'll get through this; you're a survivor – we both are."_

No matter how he tried, his confused mind could not quite place the voice.

* * *

 ** _July 10th, 2014_**

 ** _An unknown location in the USA_**

"What have you done, _this_ time?

Jamie, a trainer in one hand as he hobbled through the door, smiled broadly as he saw his best friend for the first time since her accident.

"I twisted my ankle – landed badly while I was running the assault course. Enough about me; how are you?"

Abigail raised up her right hand which was heavily wrapped in white gauze.

"It hurts like hell but the doctor says it'll heal completely in a couple of weeks.

"It scared the hell out of all of us when your pistol exploded."

"It scared me too. . ." Abigail Wilde replied darkly.

"When are they going to let you out?"

"Couple of days – they need to do some more X-rays to make sure no further damage was done."

As Jamie was hustled off by a nurse for treatment, he waved at his friend who grinned stupidly. Whatever the bond was between the two kids, it appeared unbreakable. Abigail had hated the previous two days, and not just because of the pain that, at times, had had her in tears. She had missed Jamie. She had missed the jokes and the teasing which somehow made their lives as _Predators_ that little bit more bearable.

Their lives and probably their fates were intertwined in ways that Abigail could not even consider.

* * *

 ** _The next day  
Wednesday, 13th July_**

 ** _Oakland Quay, Canary Wharf_**

"Commander Patrick Haig, SO15 – I would like to speak with your boss, William Fraser."

The receptionist looked up at the well-dressed man who smiled amiably down at her. He was accompanied by a young woman who stood a few feet away from her boss, her eyes taking in everything and everybody.

"Who is she?" the receptionist demanded.

"That would be Sergeant Stefanie Woodward, my colleague – now, your boss, if you please."

"May I tell him what this is about?" the receptionist persisted.

"Murder."

* * *

 ** _A short distance away. . ._**

Shannon was concerned.

The same, very senior, policeman had been seen at the scene of her double-murder, just the previous morning. Now, he was visiting her target. Something very serious was going on. There was also a danger that she herself could come face to face with SO15 which would _not_ end well, for anybody.

Shannon faded back into the mass of suits moving through the area.


	13. Scorpio

**_That night . . .  
Wednesday, July 13th, 2016_**

 ** _Oakland Quay, Canary Wharf_**

It was a little after one o'clock in the morning as Stormtide made her assault on the building.

Earlier that day, in between scouting out the building, she had been shopping. Stormtide was clad from head to toe in dark grey. No skin was visible as she skirted the boundary of the facility. She had mapped out all the security sensors and then committed their locations to memory. At night, there was no overt or covert security outside the facility but the electronic sensors were turned right up. Only, whomsoever had set up the security had not counted on somebody small infiltrating the facility.

Stormtide's slender body was perfect for the task as she slid beneath the laser sensors that ringed the easy access points. Statistically, the security guards on duty would be at their lowest ebb as she approached them, increasing her chances. A very pissed off William Fraser had stormed out of the building earlier that day – he had appeared wounded but Shannon could not be certain. Either way, she had seen the immense relief on those who remained in the building – they did not seem to like their boss and like most underlings, they thrived when not in the direct eye of their master and overseer.

One effect of the man leaving the premises was that the security had noticeably slackened.

..._...

As she approached the rear loading dock, within the building's boundary, Stormtide studied the cameras set inside darkened hemispherical domes. Through her infra-red night-vision headgear, she was able to detect the small heat emissions from the de-mist system in the camera as it moved. Once the nearest camera was pointing away from her, she dashed forwards and rolled into the loading dock, stopping against the concrete buffer above which was a large steel rolling shutter, one of five similar shutters.

There was a sound from above her and off to the side of the shutters. A security door had been opened – it was the security guard on his hourly rounds, checking out the loading dock.

"Two-eight, loading dock clear, over."

" _Copy, loading dock clear – go get yourself a coffee. Out._ "

Stormtide kept out of sight, in the shadows, until the man turned back towards the open doorway. Then, she moved – she moved fast. As the guard passed through the door, he pulled it closed behind him. Before the security guard knew what was happening, his feet were swept out from under him and he found himself being dragged down the corridor and into an empty office that belonged to the Loading Dock Supervisor.

The man held his hands out as he found himself gazing down the nine-millimetre barrel of Stormtide's Heckler & Koch P30K Compact pistol with attached suppressor.

..._...

After retrieving the man's access card, Stormtide glared down at the man. He was just a guy undertaking a shit job doing shit hours for a shit weekly pay packet. However, he fought back, kicking out at Stormtide who was ready for any form of resistance – as a result, the man was pistol whipped, breaking his nose and sending a glob of blood flying across the room.

"You resist, I fucking kill you, and then I move onto one of your fuck-buddies."

Stormtide had noticed that the security door by the loading dock had both a swipe and a keypad – she needed more.

"Give me the code!" she growled.

"Fuck you. . ."

Stormtide yanked off the man's left boot, followed by his sock. She rammed the man's sock into his own mouth and then shot him in the foot. The scream was muffled and the man struggled to control himself as his foot jerked with the pain. Stormtide nonchalantly helped herself to an unopened can of Dr Pepper which sat on a desk, popping it open and taking a swig.

"You calmed down now? What a pathetic wus! The code?"

Stormtide pulled out the sock. The man was very angry – understandable as he had just gained a nine-millimetre hole in his right foot.

"When I . . . get my hands on. . ."

"Wrong answer!"

Once the sock was replaced, Stormtide reversed the pistol and she brought the butt down onto the man's little toe. The already damaged foot jerked as more blood spewed out after the toe curling crunch of bone. The man's face contorted in agony as Stormtide took another sip of Dr Pepper.

"Ewww – I've got bits of your toe on my pistol!"

Ten minutes later, Stormtide slunk down another corridor, the access card in her pocket and the six-digit code in her brain. She had shot the guard in the head, putting him out of his misery.

..._...

Stormtide stopped at a fire panel where there was a plan of each floor in the building.

There were two subterranean levels, the lower of which had very little detail as to what was down there. All the other levels showed high detail for the layout and that made the lowest level a good place to start the search. The access card and the code released an access door to the stairs where Stormtide headed downwards, her pistol held out ahead of her. The first subterranean level was quickly bypassed and she headed directly to the next level below.

The door to the lowest level had a heftier door than all the others. Stormtide smiled; she was close to her target, she was certain of it. She also knew that she was short on time – the dead fuck by loading bay would be missed very soon – there was also the chance of coming across a roving security guard, too. With a swipe of the card and the punching of six buttons, Stormtide was through the access door.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Fuck!" Stormtide breathed as she found herself face to face with a large man dressed in a security guard uniform. "I don't have time to fuck about with wankers. . ."

The security guard was reaching for his radio – his hand never made it as his left wrist was shattered by the pistol which came down hard before moving upwards and catching him across the jaw, dislocating the right side. Before he could scream out, Stormtide smashed her fist into his temple putting him out cold.

The guard was a bonus – it meant that she was on the right track.

..._...

Stormtide found herself in a corridor – the security guard had appeared out of a security office, to her left. To the right was another security door which led into a small vestibule. Off that vestibule, there were three doors. Stormtide studied the door ahead of her – to the _Predator_ , it yelled 'cell'. She swiped the access card, then punched in the code. Her mind was racing and she wished – she wished so much that she might find a young _Predator_ behind that cell door. . . The door clicked open and Stormtide came face to face with a _Predator_ – just not the _Predator_ whom she had been expecting.

"I know you. . ." she growled as she levelled her suppressed pistol at the young girl who had sat up in her bed, instantly alert.

Shannon was checked over, up and down, by the young girl who slowly swung her bare legs around onto the floor.

"You're here for Jamie."

It was more statement than question. Shannon's eyes narrowed.

"I've known him for a while – since he was a yellow . . . he never told you he was a yellow?"

Shannon shook her head, intrigued, as the girl stood up.

"Is he . . .?"

"Alive? Yes, he is – well, he was when I saw him yesterday; he managed to get himself Tasered."

Stormtide smiled to herself – Jamie could not keep out of trouble for a second.

"I can help you find him; but you've gotta trust me. They call me Fury – you?"

"Stormtide. Do anything I don't like and I pop a bullet through your smart-arsed brain. Kneel!"

Fury did so and she tilted her head to one side while Stormtide checked behind her right ear. Stormtide grunted in satisfaction and she growled at the girl.

"Get dressed."

The radio which Stormtide had taken from the first security guard came to life.

" _Two-eight, you finished your coffee, yet?_ "

"We need to move," Stormtide pointed out.

Fury quickly pulled on some trousers, a T-shirt, and a pair of trainers.

..._...

Fury raised an eyebrow as she saw the unconscious security guard stretched out on the floor. She noticed Stormtide ignoring the man as she made for the stairs.

"Remind me never to piss you off, Stormtide," Fury commented.

"Where is he?" Stormtide demanded impatiently.

"They last had him in a holding room, up on the fifth floor."

"Let's move – stairs."

The two girls ran up the stairs, Stormtide keeping Fury in sight at all times. The younger, ten-year-old girl was fit and fast as she used her long legs to leap up the steps two at a time. They were both breathing heavily by the time they had reached the fifth floor. Before they left the stairwell, Fury turned to Stormtide.

"There are bad people here – and I have no idea what we are going to find; just bear that in mind, okay."

"Okay."

The two _Predators_ ran down the corridor and Fury stopped outside a door. Stormtide took a deep breath and after swiping the card and punching in the code, she pushed open the door. Her heart was racing in anticipation of what she might find . . .

Stormtide's heart sank, lower than it had been in days; the room was empty.

Then it just got worse as alarms began to blare.

..._...

"Now what, shit-head?" Stormtide demanded.

"We find somebody who knows where he's been taken," Fury replied evenly.

"Lead on, Fury!"

Fury took off down the corridor with Stormtide running along behind. They made it half way to the stairs when a door opened and two security guards appeared a few yards away. Unfortunately for them, they did not notice the two girls until it was too late. Fury took one guard down within seconds, closely followed by Stormtide a second behind. They rushed to the stairs and . . .

"Well, well – _two_ bad little bitches," Kevin drawled from the landing below. "I am going to make you two wish that you were never born. . ."

Stormtide dove to the ground, dragging Fury down with her, as bullets peppered the wall above them.

"Didn't know you cared!" Fury laughed.

"I don't – but I need you to help me find Jamie."

"I can accept that."

Stormtide returned fire until her magazine was empty.

"No reloads?" Fury enquired.

"No reloads," Stormtide confirmed as the gunfire ceased – Kevin was reloading.

Without any warning, Fury jumped up and she dived at the incredulous man a dozen steps below. Stormtide was a little stunned, but she knew that _Predators_ took chances when needed. Fury struck Kevin as he tried to bring his pistol to bear on the flying girl. Her impetus knocked him off his feet and cushioned Fury's fall.

By the time Stormtide reached the landing, Fury was smashing her fists into Kevin's face. He had dropped his pistol and was doing his best to shield himself from the wild girl who was attacking him. He got in a punch, sending Fury backwards where she screamed out in pain as she struck the staircase balustrade. Stormtide pulled the girl back to her feet and kicked out at Kevin, smashing some teeth.

"Where is he?" she demanded angrily as she seized up his pistol and aimed it at his face.

"Your little friend is gone," Kevin breathed through his broken teeth and the blood which flowed steadily down his face and jaw from his smashed nose and mouth.

"Where is he?" the very angry Stormtide repeated.

"We sold the little fuck to the Russians . . . he's fucking paedo bait now, bitch!" Kevin was almost laughing as Stormtide rammed her fist into his face and then her pointed fingers into his throat, smashing his larynx.

"Let's go," Stormtide said to Fury.

Neither girl never gave the man another glance as he choked away the few remaining seconds of his life.

..._...

"No – I won't believe it," Stormtide yelled as she jumped down each flight of stairs.

"The security booth – ground floor; they'll know if he left the building," Fury suggested as she followed Stormtide.

They left two unconscious security guards in their wake as they made their way to the security booth. Once there, Stormtide was in no mood for niceties as she stormed the suite of rooms, shooting five security guards in the legs in a mini blitzkrieg. Fury quickly shut off the alarms just as the phone rang.

" _What in hell's name is going on down there?_ " William Fraser demanded as Fury answered the call.

"Everything's under control – situation normal," Fury replied.

" _What happened?_ "

"We had a slight weapons malfunction but everything's perfectly alright now. We're fine . . . we're all fine here . . . now, thank you. How are you?"

" _Who is this?_ "

"You worst nightmare, arsehole!" Fury yelled as she cut the connection. "Boring conversation anyway!"

Stormtide ignored Fury's antics and faced the five wincing security guards.

"No more warning shots – I just want one question answered: where is the boy?"

A few glances were exchanged before there was a cavalcade of sound as all five yelled out together.

"One at a fucking time!"

"Sub-Level One – Detention Room."

"We have seconds before we're overwhelmed," Fury warned.

"I know, dammit!"

They raced along to the stairs and took them five at a time before they burst through the security door onto Sub-Level One. Stormtide was not wasting time; she shot the two security guards in the head as she ran before stopping outside the Detention Room.

"Oh, God, please," she muttered as she swiped the access card and punched in the code.

The door was kicked open by Fury and Stormtide burst inside.

"Took you fucking long enough!"

..._...

Rage looked up into Stormtide's grey-blue eyes and he grinned.

"You make one hell of a fucking racket," he quipped as Stormtide pulled him into a hug.

"Ungrateful little shit. . ."

"Thanks for coming after me, Stormy."

"Hope you were fucking worth it."

"Oh, I am, I am . . . err, are you going to hug me all night, or are we going to get the hell away from this shit hole?"

"Oh, yeah, sorry. . ." Stormtide replied sheepishly as she released the boy. "Shit is about to hit the fan. . ."

Stormtide pulled the boy out of the room and they both ran down the corridor and towards the exit. Where was Fury? Rage grinned as he saw the dead bodies.

"Anyone ever told you that you're a messy bitch?"

Stormtide ignored him as they scrambled up the stairs and then they burst outside through a fire-escape. Rage froze as he saw somebody vanishing around a corner a couple dozen yards away.

"Fuck!" Jamie exclaimed as he saw the young girl for just a fleeting moment. "Abigail?"

"Who?"

"Abigail," Jamie replied – as if that answered everything.

..._...

"What, or who, is Abigail?"

"An old friend I haven't seen in over a year. . ."

Jamie took off after the girl – they were headed _away_ from the building, so Shannon just took off after Jamie. Jamie rounded the corner and he saw a flurry of dark brown hair as it took off down an alleyway. Without a thought for his surroundings, the boy ran forwards but as he approached the alleyway . . . Jamie was poleaxed by an arm which suddenly stuck out at neck height and he went crashing to the tarmac. Before he could move, a foot was placed squarely on his upper chest and a pistol was thrust in his face. A very angry looking girl glared down at him. The hazel eyes were instantly familiar – especially in their angry state – as was the long, dark brown hair tied up in a single plait.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll stay away from me, Carter – you understand me?" the girl growled.

"Abigail. . ."

"Do – you – un – der – stand – me?" the girl reiterated slowly as she tapped him hard on the head with the muzzle of her pistol in time with each syllable.

"Fuck – ow – yes . . . geroffme!"

"I'm trouble, Jamie – I'm not who I used to be; I'm glad you're free, I really am – please don't try and find me . . . please . . ."

With that, Abigail Wilde AKA Fury pulled Jamie up by his collar and then she kissed him on the lips before she dropped the dazed boy back to the ground and ran.

"So, I'm not the _only_ girl you've pissed off!" Shannon stated evenly.

Jamie just lay on the ground with a growing smile on his lips.

"You just going to lie there? Maybe I should just tell the Police to ignore you when they arrive?"

"Oh, yeah – let's go!"

"That pistol – it was empty," Shannon said conversationally as they ran from the scene.

"What?"

"She took my empty pistol."

"You got a new one?"

"Yeah – but I'm going to have to ditch it."

"Needs must."


	14. Predator Training

**_The following evening . . .  
Thursday, July 14th, 2016_**

 ** _Mayfair_**

Jamie appeared to have been really exhausted; he had slept almost twelve hours before he had awoken.

The boy appeared in the kitchen looking like a zombie.

"Hey, sleepy. You, okay?"

"Yeah, Stormy, thanks – I didn't know that I was so tired. They kept me awake – sleep deprivation; began to lose track of things. If you two hadn't. . ."

"While I enjoyed the peace and quiet, and the fact that I had no need to put the toilet seat down . . . I missed you, Jamie."

"Oh, God – is this where you go all mushy on me?"

Shannon looked at Jamie and smiled.

"You're like a little brother to me, Jamie . . . not to mention that I've heard a lot about you while you were sleeping."

"Huh?"

"I would suggest you go for a swim – it'll wake you up, by then I'll have dinner ready."

* * *

Jamie slunk down the stairs until he reached the basement.

Without paying much attention to his surroundings, he pulled off his t-shirt, leaving on his boxer shorts, and stumbled into the water. It was _so_ refreshing; he had not had a shower in days. He lazed around in the water for almost an hour before he heard Shannon yelling his name.

"You look better," Shannon commented as Jamie appeared, a blue towel wrapped around his waist.

He dropped his wet underwear on the kitchen floor.

"Nice. . ." Shannon commented. "Fish and chips do?"

"Cool – I can live with that."

..._...

"What was she like?"

"Who?"

"Abigail."

"She was the first girl I'd seen naked – she showed me around her body; inside and out, back when we spent a week in The Cage together. She was always nice to me, no matter what I did."

"She sounds creepy. I would never have shown a boy my. . . ewww!"

"Yeah, I thought it was 'ewww', too."

Shannon laughed.

"She sounds a great girl – very spirited, too, from what I saw."

"Yeah," Jamie confirmed between bites of his chips. "She's certifiable."

"Look, Jamie – I've been thinking about the other day and how you got taken. We need to up your training."

"Huh?"

"We need to turn you into a real _Predator_ – Phase 3, at least."

"I suppose – what do I need to learn?"

"Everything!"

* * *

 _Everything._

Turned out to be a _very_ big word! Shannon also proved to be a total bitch – nothing totally new, but Jamie was seeing a new side to Shannon. He was seeing the professional assassin. He had seen the dead bodies Shannon had left scattered around, like so much rubbish, during his rescue.

He knew that she was highly skilled, but he hadn't quite understood how cold and calculating she could be. If Jamie had had any thought that his training might be easy, or that Shannon might go easy on him . . . _that_ thought was dispelled within the first few minutes.

Shannon had quite literally kicked the shit out of Jamie and the boy lay on the floor with tears running down his face as he struggled to breathe.

"Get up!" Shannon yelled coldly.

Jamie struggled to his feet – it felt just like hell week as a _Predator_ when Rachel had pretty much kicked the shit out of him to make sure that he knew what he was getting himself into as he had moved up from being a Yellow. The bruises he could handle – he had received literally thousands since that day he was taken. He felt angry that Shannon was pounding on him so hard, but he balanced that anger against the knowledge that she was just trying to keep him alive in the only way that a Phase 3 _Predator_ knew.

He glared up at his tormentor. She showed no compassion as she glared back. Jamie studied the girl's stance and then he smirked – she was goading him, laying herself wide open . . . but he caught himself; she would not do that – it was a test. She wanted him to attack in a way that she was ready for . . . he had learnt not to take _any_ easy path that a potential enemy offered – an old friend had taught him that; she had also taught him a few advanced tricks of the trade, too.

"Bring it on, you fucking whore!" he growled and Shannon rolled her eyes.

Jamie moved closer and closer. He watched carefully as Shannon tensed up; he saw her muscles adjusting her stance - then he made his move. . .

..._...

Shannon had been expecting the attack to come into her left side; she had left it open – obviously open. In hindsight, maybe it was too obvious and maybe Jamie was more highly skilled than she had believed. She knew that he had endured about three years of hell. Somehow, the kids had graduated from being an insignificant Yellow, to gaining his coveted tattoo marking him out as a true _Predator_. Somewhere along the line, he had received extra training, over and above that which a normal Phase 1 _Predator_ would have received. Yes, he had advanced to become a Phase 2 Predator, but he still had a lot to learn – despite his skills having kept the boy alive until they had met.

The little rat had seen through her deception and he had struck out at her opposite side which had been a surprise but it had not exactly overtaxed her and she had easily kicked the boy down again. She hated doing it and the sight of the bruises and even some blood on his face went against everything but he had to be trained. He had to know how to survive . . . Shannon screamed out as an unearthly pain shot through her snatch.

When Jamie had fallen to his knees – as he had planned – he had reached out and grabbed at Shannon's vulva, seizing a good amount of skin-tight shorts as well as some of the hidden pubic hair, of which he knew that she had plenty. Then, he had twisted, savagely. The scream from Shannon as she had fallen to the ground had been painful to hear but he was determined to show that he was not defenceless.

"Let . . . go!" Shannon almost screamed.

Jamie kept his grip and he twisted a little further.

"Oh, you are good, Jamie – but I am way better!"

Shannon gave up trying to pull his hand away from her snatch, instead, she returned the favour. Before Jamie knew what was happening, her left hand had yanked down his shorts while the right had then seized hold of his dick and balls.

"Pretty insignificant, really; so easy to make you a girl. My pubes will grow back if you rip them out, but will your cock grow back?"

Jamie grimaced as Shannon began to squeeze.

"On one?" Jamie suggested.

"On one," Shannon confirmed, her eyes filling with tears as she fought through the pain.

"One!" Jamie called out and he felt the pressure ease between his legs and he released Shannon.

She instantly placed both hands down her shorts and gripped herself tightly, rolling around on the floor.

"I am going to get you for that," she seethed through clenched teeth. "Well done, though!"

* * *

 ** _Friday, July 22nd_**

 ** _Mayfair_**

The night was not great.

The weather had closed in and it had become prematurely dark and then the heavens had opened. Rain hammered down on the windows. Inside, Shannon and Jamie continued their _Predator_ training. Jamie was dripping with sweat, having been training for three hours straight. Shannon, too, was just as sweaty having been pounding a punchbag for almost as long. Jamie completed his eighth run-through of the movements dictated by Shannon and he sank to the floor, reaching for a towel and a cold bottle of water as he did so. Shannon joined her companion and sucked cold, refreshing water out of another bottle.

"Very good, Jamie – you're doing well. You finding it useful?"

"Yeah – I understand what the movements do and I can't wait to use them in action," Jamie replied.

"Let's go get something to eat," Shannon suggested and Jamie's face lit up all smiles – like most eight-year-old boys, he was _always_ hungry.

As they descended the spiral stairs to the kitchen, they paused. Somebody had just knocked on the front door.

..._...

Jamie and Shannon ran down the rest of the way and they both grabbed up their pistols from their hiding places close to the front door. The hallway was in almost total darkness, as, with pistols raised, they approached the part-glazed doors and peered through. There was a shadowy shape visible in the driving rain, poorly illuminated by the street lighting. Jamie looked and Shannon who nodded. With swift movements, Jamie unlocked and heaved open one side of the double doors, barely a foot, while Shannon reached out into the rain and seized hold of the person standing there by their clothing at the top of the chest. With a jerk, Shannon pulled them inside where Jamie slammed the front door shut and locked it.

Shannon kicked the person to the ground before dragging them along the marble floor towards the kitchen and the bright white lighting there. Surprisingly, the person made no attempt to struggle or fight back. Jamie followed, the muzzle of his pistol held unwaveringly on the unidentified person's chest. Seconds later, Shannon dropped the person to the ground, eliciting a brief, "ow." Both stared at the sopping wet individual and they both quickly came to the same conclusion, but before Shannon could say or do anything, Jamie stepped forwards, crouched down, and then he began to speak, his pistol tapping the sodden individual's wet hair with the muzzle in time with each syllable.

"Let's – see – how – you – like – it – bitch!"

"Fuck off, Jamie!"

..._...

Jamie pulled his friend back to her feet and then placed his pistol on the kitchen side. The girl was soaked to the skin and shivering.

"Can I get a towel, please," Abigail Wilde asked as she began to pull off her dripping clothes.

"I'll go get some," Shannon said as she vanished towards the laundry.

Jamie watched his friend as she nonchalantly stripped off in front of him. When she was finished, and completely naked, she just stood with her hands on her hips and she glared at Jamie.

"Well?"

"I see you've not got any tits yet."

"As tactful as ever, I see!" Abigail laughed as she studied her own very flat chest. "I'm not eleven until the middle of October, Jamie – so don't expect to see any boobs until then at the absolute earliest."

"Sorry, just making conversation."

"Here," Shannon said as she handed two large towels to Abigail. "Go upstairs to the living room – it's much warmer up there. I'll stick your clothes in the washing machine and then the dryer."

"You appear to be in safe hands, Jamie," Abigail commented as she followed her friend upstairs, a towel wrapped around her body while she used the other to dry her long, dark brown hair.

..._...

Jamie and Abigail were sitting opposite one another, just staring, as Shannon reappeared, a pistol hanging from its trigger-guard on her middle finger.

"Yours, or should I say, mine – I found it in your discarded trousers, Abigail."

"Oh, sorry!"

"Why are you here?" Shannon asked.

"I realised that I had nowhere to go – and I'm not ready to be out on my own – not quite yet. I followed you both, the other night, but I didn't want to look like a loser, asking for help. . ."

Abigail looked very dejected as she related her story.

"You're stupid, you know that, right?" Jamie said.

"For once, the brat is right," Shannon grinned.

Abigail smiled.

* * *

 ** _The following morning_**

 ** _Saturday, July 23rd_**

Jamie awoke to find that he was _not_ alone in the bed.

The king-size bed was enormous and the two young kids, an eight-year-old boy and the nine-year-old girl, did not exactly take up a lot of room. He moved his left leg as he stretched, and then he froze as his foot touched something warm. His eyes snapped open and he looked to his left. He could see a mass of brown hair spread over the pillow and a bare arm on top of the duvet. It was Abigail.

The aforementioned _Predator_ turned over and she smiled at Jamie, looking a little sheepish.

"I felt lonely – I've been alone for so long; I really missed you, Jamie. Sorry for sneaking into bed. . ."

"You'll get no complaints from me," Jamie replied with a smile. "Waking up next to a beautiful girl is _not_ a problem!"

Abigail blushed.

..._...

Shannon left the bathroom, fully dressed, and ready for breakfast. Her first stop, as it was most mornings, was Jamie – he often needed a prod to get up after a hard workout the night before. Shannon paused at the door – she could hear giggling. She frowned as she gently pushed the door open.

". . . she screamed as I twisted her hairy parts – it was funny!"

"It probably hurt – not that I would know; I ain't got any pubes."

"It hurt, believe me!" an angry Shannon growled from the doorway.

"Don't worry, Shannon – first time, we fought; he grabbed my snatch and dug his damn nails in. I was sore for days and it was a week before the red marks faded."

"Can't blame him for liking a bit of pussy under his hands," Shannon chuckled and Abigail giggled while Jamie scowled.

* * *

 ** _Two days later  
Monday, July 25th_**

"Come on, Jamie – you used to be better than this; for fuck's sake, you fucking _beat_ me!"

"He did?" Shannon queried with some astonishment.

"Yeah – fight club; he beat me."

"How old was he?"

Abigail groaned and she looked uncomfortable.

"Six. . ." she muttered.

"I missed that."

" _SIX_! The fucker was _SIX_!" Abigail yelled before folding her arms across her chest and scowling at the floor.

Jamie just smiled, enormously.

"Oh, wow – you must have been shit," Shannon commented.

"He was just lucky," Abigail groused.

Shannon began to laugh and so did Jamie.

"Shut up!" Abigail yelled.

"That is so funny!" Shannon laughed.

"Okay – he beat me, fair and square. I respected him for it – we became friends."

"Yes, we did," Jamie confirmed. "Abigail helped me become who I am today."

"You're something special, Abigail," Shannon said and the younger girl blushed.

"Very special," a blushing Jamie added.

..._...

With Abigail's assistance, Shannon was able to escalate the training. Jamie needed to learn how to fight two superior attackers at the same time. To be honest, the poor boy was beginning to feel very downtrodden as the two, very serious, _Predators_ beat on him for hours at a time.

Jamie quickly learnt the hard way to have eyes in the back of his head and to maintain his situational awareness as he moved. Abigail and Shannon were coordinating their attacks to show Jamie worst case scenarios. The boy was also becoming angry as the punches came hard and fast, with both of his friends attacking him relentlessly. As a result, he was digging deep for energy to fight back. Emotionally, he was struggling and after four days of constant training, he had had enough.

Jamie struck out at Shannon, first – all the hate that had built up over almost three years of hell; it exploded out. He jabbed the thirteen-year-old girl in the throat with his extended fingers and kicked her in the groin and then the abdomen. Shannon went down hard, struggling to breathe. Jamie turned on Abigail and he caught the shocked ten-year-old was kicked in the side of her head and she joined the older girl on the floor.

Jamie continued to kick and punch as Abigail attempted to protect Shannon. Her eyes showed compassion, realising that they had pushed the boy too far – he had had enough.

"Okay, Jamie – you've had enough," Abigail shouted. "You can stop now."

Jamie stopped, glaring down at Abigail but then he sagged to his knees and Abigail grabbed him and hugged him tightly as the tears fell down his cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Jamie," Abigail said quietly.

"Me, too," Shannon added hoarsely.

* * *

 ** _Four days later  
Friday, July 29th_**

The next four days had been spent with no training whatsoever.

The three youngsters just spent the time being youngsters. They watched TV, they swam, they enjoyed the sunshine – Shannon and Abigail spent a lot of time on the flat roof terrace of the property sunbathing. Jamie joined in, but he just liked to watch as his two naked friends went for an all over tan.

The three had also spent the evenings talking. Both girls felt very bad about their part in making Jamie snap. They had also congratulated him on his vicious attack. Shannon's throat was still bruised but she could speak properly after a couple of days. Abigail's face was bruised, but it was fading.

Abigail had kept Jamie company at night as the young boy struggled to cope with his emotions.

..._...

That evening, Abigail had made some plans to cheer Jamie up properly.

"I'll be back in an hour – I'll pick up something nice for dinner," Abigail said as she headed down the stairs.

"See you later!" Jamie shouted after his friend.

Jamie then joined Shannon in the swimming pool where they both lazed in the water, talking and joking. After an hour, both were very waterlogged and wrinkly, so they left the pool and they both sat in the adjacent steam room, enjoying the refreshing feeling as the steam worked its way into their tired bodies and eased their aching muscles.

After forty minutes absorbing the steam, Jamie went looking for his friend.

..._...

"Abigail back yet?" he asked Shannon, twenty minutes later.

"No – maybe she got delayed."

Jamie looked worried.

"It's been two hours."

"She's only an hour late – it's London; traffic sucks."

"She's walking!"

"She'll be back very soon – give it a little longer."


	15. Missing and Hunted

**_A week later  
Tuesday, August 2nd, 2016_**

 ** _Mayfair  
United Kingdom_**

Jamie's happiness had exploded like a balloon that had just been impaled on a sewing needle.

Nothing that Shannon could say or do could make up for the loss which he felt. Even Shannon missed her, despite only having known her for a few days. The happiness she had seen in Jamie's eyes had been worth having the temperamental _Predator_ around. Her presence had also made them a team of three – a team which would have been stronger when facing a determined enemy.

Jamie was lying on a couch, sulking, just as he had been for several days.

* * *

 ** _June 16th, 2014_**

 ** _An unknown location in the USA_**

Jamie was much relieved to see his friend return from wherever she had gone.

"Hey, Abigail!"

"Hi, Jamie."

The welcome was not exactly warm, but Jamie could see that his friend looked pale.

"What's wrong?" Jamie asked as he correctly read his friend's expression.

"I want to kill her. . ." Abigail breathed, her face contorting into one of intense rage.

"Who?"

"Psyche. I swear to God – I _will_ kill her."

"You hurt?"

"Just my pride. . ."

Jamie pulled his friend into a classroom as she burst into tears. After a few minutes, she calmed down and lifted her top. Jamie saw a fresh medical dressing on her left side.

"A fucking Yellow did that; cut me with my own fucking knife."

Abigail then pushed down her joggers and underwear. Jamie gasped at the state of her backside.

"Who did _that_?"

"Psyche!"

"Why?"

"The instructors let her – I came second; the bitch beat me. She even tried to get a boy to rape me."

Jamie's face went very dark and he silently filed away the girl, Psyche, onto his list of people that had to die.

..._...

A half hour later, they both filed through to the dining room for their evening meal.

"Who's the new girl?" Jamie enquired as he and Abigail joined their elder friend.

"Oh, hi, Abigail – you okay?" Rachel asked.

"Long story," Abigail growled as she viciously stabbed her sausages.

"Fucked if I know," Abigail replied.

"The new girl is Saoirse Doherty; we became _Predators_ together – _Second Predator Intake_. I'd stay clear of her, if I were you; she likes to bully the younger kids and she only worries about herself."

"Good to know," Jamie commented as he chomped away on his third sausage of the meal.

* * *

 ** _Two days later  
Thursday, August 4th, 2016_**

 ** _Westminster Bridge, London  
United Kingdom_**

Jamie was angry.

He and Shannon had been out almost eight hours a day, every day, ever since Abigail had failed to return, back to the house. He knew it was a long-shot; two young kids searching for one ten-year-old girl in the twenty-second largest city in the world. Abigail Wilde was but one of 8.6-million other people in the giant city. They had searched the places where the homeless lived. They had searched drug dens and sex dens.

After a few days, it had dawned on them both that maybe Abigail either did not want to be found, or she had been taken against her will. Shannon had noticed that Abigail was a troubled young girl, and maybe the girl had flipped – it wasn't totally unknown for a _Predator_ to lose their mind and go insane. Both Jamie and Shannon had witnessed _Predators_ going insane and having to be shot down like a rabid dog to protect the other _Predators_.

Jamie leaned on the parapet and he stared down at the muddy-brown waters of the River Thames. His mind was anywhere but where it should be. Shannon was close by and she was worried about the boy – the usual jovial Jamie had vanished just as Abigail had. Shannon missed the teasing and snide comments but Jamie was not in a joking mood and he had not been for a while.

As she watched, she noticed Jamie seemingly oblivious as a young teen moved close by him. Shannon, being a professional pick-pocket herself, she recognised the deft movements which relieved Jamie of the money from the right-hand pocket of his jacket. The pick-pocket paused when his other hand touched the butt of a small automatic pistol. The pause was his undoing as Jamie span around, slamming the fourteen-year-old boy to the pavement and punching him in the face.

"Take something that isn't yours! Steal my money! I'll fucking kill you, you bastard!"

Shannon looked around nervously. Jamie's exchange with the pickpocket was attracting attention and down the far end of the bridge, Shannon could see a pair of Bobbies on their way towards the ruckus. She ran forwards and grabbed Jamie by the scruff of his neck and quickly ran towards St Thomas' Hospital.

"Geroff me, Stormy!"

"Calm down, Jamie - you almost killed that kid," Shannon protested as they stopped behind some trees.

"I was angry and he dared to try and take _my_ money!"

"You should have been concentrating on your surroundings, Jamie. Look, Abigail is gone – snap the fuck out of your morose mood and let's get on with our lives."

"Thanks, Shannon."

"I know what might cheer you up. . ."

* * *

 ** _Two hours later_**

 ** _Soho, London_**

"Where are we going?"

"I think we're being followed."

"How'd you know?"

"I am a fully trained _Predator_ , shithead!"

"'I am a fully trained _Predator_!'," Jamie mimicked but then he swore as Shannon smacked him around the back of the head.

"Show me respect or I I'll damn well make you!"

"Fucking lesbian!" Jamie muttered.

Before Shannon could come back with a suitably witty retort, she grabbed Jamie and threw him behind some dustbins.

"What are you doing, you fucking stupid woman!"

"Quiet!"

Jamie followed instructions and he waited, not all that patiently until Shannon was ready to brief him on the situation.

"You just trying to get me down here for a snog?"

Shannon laughed.

"You do think too much of yourself, Jamie! No – a man; I've seen him four times – three times, today. Look over by the pub, just to the left of the fat slag."

Jamie looked and he studied the man. He was tall, wearing dark clothing with a black leather jacket and he was clean shaven, with short brown hair.

"Never seen him – you sure he's following us?"

"Not one hundred percent, but we can't take any chances – we have Scorpio after us; they'll be pissed about what we did to their people. I killed two women, a couple weeks ago. Not to mention we have the CIA after us – he could be anybody or nobody, but can we take the chance?"

"No – definitely not. You just keep that smart brain of yours working, Shan."

..._...

The man who bore the codename, Astute, was searching central London for his targets.

He had trailed them from Whitby, to York, south to Nottingham, and then to London. Almost without fail, his targets had left a bloody trail of destruction behind them. Gunfights out in the open. Night time fires. Bloody fights. Then came the more serious stuff – a well-executed double murder and an attack on a major, but corrupt, corporation in the centre of the financial district of London.

He was worried that his targets may get themselves killed before he could catch up with them. Now, it seemed that they knew they were being tracked. Their training was good – as good as he had expected. He knew that he would eventually be spotted but he had expected it a lot earlier. That was a concern, maybe they were not as well-trained as he had expected.

He watched as the boy and the girl vanished down an alleyway.

..._...

"What are we doing in here?" Jamie demanded as he looked around.

"Killing time until that guy moves away. I never got around to getting one of these – it was a rite of passage for Phase 3 _Predators_."

"A tattoo?"

"Yeah."

The shop walls were covered in tattoo designs from the most basic to some pretty intricate designs.

"You lookin' for somethin', honey?" a woman asked from behind the counter.

"Err, maybe . . . what about that one?"

"Hundred quid, honey."

"Why the hell not!"

A few minutes later, Jamie smirked as Shannon pulled off her bra.

"I don't know what you're smirking at; you've seen them before."

"I know – just forgot that they were so small," Jamie laughed and Shannon scowled at the boy.

"For that, you little fuck, I think you need to suffer too," Shannon grinned as she passed the tattoo artist two twenties and a ten.

Jamie looked a little worried as he watched the lady begin to stencil a pattern onto the soft skin beneath Shannon's right breast. Then came the moment of truth as Shannon lay back and she reached for Jamie's hand. She knew it was going to hurt – a lot!

"Fuck getting that!" Jamie exclaimed forty minutes later as he tried to regain the use of his left hand which Shannon had almost squeezed into nothing.

"Please, Jamie – I'll hold _your_ hand."

..._...

"Why do I let myself get tortured by you?" Jamie growled half an hour later as he cringed with the pain each time the tiny needles punched into his left shoulder.

"Because you're a sweet boy who listens to his betters," Shannon replied.

"Sweet? Do know me at all?"

"Sorry – you just look sweet while in reality, you're a bloody menace!"

Jamie laughed until he could take no more and he gripped Shannon's hand as tightly as he could.

"Fuck!" Shannon growled as she grimaced with the pain in her hand.

..._...

They left the shop, a little over two hours later.

As far as Shannon could tell, there was no sign of the man, but they had left via a back door anyway. Jamie was not happy – he moaned about his painful shoulder, the missing Abigail, his painful shoulder, his rumbling tummy, his painful shoulder, his sore legs from all the walking . . . and his painful shoulder. Shannon just gritted her teeth against the pain of her fresh body art. She had not managed to put her bra back on, so she had just stuffed it into her jacket pocket.

"Thanks," Jamie said as they walked.

"No problem."

"Does this tattoo mean I'm a Phase 3 Predator?"

"I think it does – as long as you don't go all pussy on me!"

Shannon yelled out as Jamie kicked her in the left shin.

"Would you like me to punch you in the shoulder?" Shannon teased.

"You do, Stormy, and I will. . ."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah – I know, tough guy."

"We make a good team, you and me, Stormy."

"Yes, we do, Rage. I hope we're never separated."

Jamie reached his arm around Shannon and he gave her a hug. Shannon did the same and they stayed like that as they walked the remaining distance to the house.

* * *

 **A little under two weeks later**

 **Wednesday, August 17th**

Stormtide studied herself topless in the mirror.

She now possessed a black and grey rain cloud with an eye in the centre. The tattoo nestled neatly between and just beneath her breasts. It was no longer sore and she could wear a bra again – and as an aside, she would no longer be tormented for going braless by the little fuck she lived with – it was like she had a little brother!

Taking of the annoying little eight-year-old, Rage's tattoo was different – it represented the depictions of Rage and Despair in black, imprinted on his left shoulder. He enjoyed flaunting it and spent most of his time, roaming the house topless. Neither of them had left the house much, over the preceding days. They relied on takeaways and the occasional trip to the local shop.

Training had continued, although any contact had been limited due to their new tattoos. Jamie was very much advanced from when Shannon had first met the boy and she was very proud of him with everything that he had achieved. He still had some rough edges, but he could look after himself in a tight spot without too much difficulty. She liked the boy, despite her attitude towards him.

They were true partners, looking after each other as they struggled to survive as youngsters in a very cruel world.

* * *

 ** _Later that evening_**

 ** _Oakland Quay, Canary Wharf_**

"Can I go on record by saying that this idea of yours is fucking nuts?"

"Yes – I agree with your one hundred percent, but we need to get intel and find out if they have Abigail."

"Thank you – I miss her."

"Well, yeah! When she was around, you always had you hand down your trousers playing with that little dick of yours – surprised it hasn't dropped off. . ."

Jamie growled as his cheeks went a dark shade of pink.

"She looks nice. . ." Jamie offered rather weakly.

"Yeah – she's cute. Now, Jamie, let's find out if you have the guts for advanced interrogation."

"Torture?"

"Yes."

"Is that how you found me? You never did explain that."

"Yes – there was a nasty double murder."

"You do like to play with your food, don't you?"

"Oh, I do."

Being so close to their main adversary was not clever, nor wise, but it was essential if they were to identify a suitable candidate to answer some important questions.

* * *

 ** _Three days later  
Saturday, August 20th_**

 ** _North of Marylebone Road_**

Their mark was probably a _little_ ambitious for them, but Shannon was certain that the bastard would know if Scorpio were still holding any kids in their London HQ.

The man lived alone, in a small but luxurious duplex apartment. They had trailed him home twice and in between, they had checked out his apartment during the day while he was at work. Everything that they would need for their little operation was already in the apartment, so, that evening, when the man returned home, they allowed him to have his dinner and then settle down in front of the television.

They only had a short wait before the man began to feel very tired.

..._...

"Damn – I can't believe that actually worked," Jamie exclaimed as they entered the apartment.

Jamie helped Shannon to drag the groggy man off the sofa and over towards the open spiral staircase which led to the upper level of the apartment. Shannon then used a rope to pull the man into a vertical position, his bound wrists high over his head. By the time she had finished tying the rope off, the man had just his toes on the floor beneath him. His ankles were secured with a two-foot piece of rope between them and then another piece of rope securing that piece of rope to the spiral staircase.

The man would be able to wriggle and flex, but he could not escape. Over his mouth, Shannon had placed a piece of Duct Tape. Whilst Shannon was preparing the man, Jamie had been running up and down between the apartment and the car garage beneath, bringing up various items that Shannon said they would require for the evening's activities.

"You ready for this?" Shannon asked Jamie, very seriously.

"I can do this . . . I hope."

"You just say the word and you do not have to take part, okay?"

"Yes, Shannon – I understand."

"Your first task – strip the bastard."

Jamie cringed at the thought. It would be a first for the both of them: a naked adult male.

..._...

Twenty minutes later, the man was hanging as naked as the day he was born.

"He's not badly hung, really," Shannon mused as she checked over the man's body, pausing at his crotch.

"Do you have to? It's gross."

"You're not always going to have a little dick, you know," Shannon pointed out.

"You going to play with it?"

"Ewww!"

Jamie laughed at Shannon's expression.

"He should be coming around any minute – it was only a light dosage of sedative on his pasta."

"Remind me never to prepare food ahead of time when you're around!"

"Why would I feed _you_ a date-rape drug?"

"Thanks for making me feel desirable!" Jamie growled.

There was a groaning sound as the man began to regain consciousness. To speed things along, Shannon threw a jug of cold water at his face. The man coughed and spluttered as his eyes came open.

The man was _very_ disoriented.


	16. Torture

**_Saturday, August 20th, 2016_**

 ** _North of Marylebone Road_**

The man was very disoriented.

He could remember dozing off in front of the television, but nothing else until he was doused in very cold water. He coughed and spluttered as the water ran down his body. He looked down and he could see that his clothes were missing.

"Yes, you're fucking naked!" Stormtide growled as she stepped into his field of vision and ripped off the Duct Tape.

"Who the fucking hell are you, bitch?"

"They call me Stormtide – not my real name, but that's all you need to know."

"You do realise that you are fucking dead, don't you?"

"I beg to differ – I am very much alive, fuck wad!"

"Do you know who I am? Do you know who I work for?"

"Yes . . . and . . . yes."

The man paused, as his initial bluster began to lose headway.

"You have information that we need, Mr Mark Lewis, Deputy Head of Security at Scorpio Enterprises. Rage?"

Rage came and stood beside Stormtide.

"Hi – I think we've met."

"You little fuck!" Lewis growled as he recognised the boy, then he turned back to Stormtide. "It was you – you came in to release that little shit and that other little bitch."

"Guilty as charged, cunt!"

"Now," Jamie growled, "we want to know if you have any kids in that abortion of an HQ. Well?"

"Fuck you!"

"Never swear at an eight-year-old!" Jamie hissed as he drove his fist into the man's left kidney.

The man yelled out in pain.

"Puny punch, little boy. . ."

Stormtide slapped the Duct Tape back over Lewis' mouth before she brought up her right hand and she swung it down as hard as she could, slapping the man's genitals. Rage winced at the slapping sound and what had just been slapped.

Lewis attempted to bellow in agony as he began to see stars.

..._...

"You are cruel!" Rage growled.

"Bit close to home, was it?" Stormtide grinned.

"You want me to twist your pubes again?"

It was Stormtide's turn to wince – that event was still a very raw topic as far as she was concerned – and she subconsciously placed a hand over her crotch.

"Thought so. . ." Jamie laughed.

They gave the man ten minutes to sort himself out before Shannon resumed her interrogation.

"Do we have your _full_ attention now?"

The man nodded his acceptance, but his eyes were still full of fire, betraying the fact that he was still capable of resisting. Shannon was having none of it – they only had a limited window of time to get information and she was intending to waste as little of it as possible.

"I don't believe you, motherfucker!" Shannon growled as she stabbed the man in his left shoulder, well clear of any arteries – Shannon was only interested in pain, at least for the moment. Lewis stared at the hilt of the knife which protruded from his shoulder as he grunted with the pain.

"There is a lot you don't know, little bitch – and I ain't telling you fucking nothing!"

"Oh, we shall see about that, Lewis – Rage!"

"You called?" Jamie said as he jumped up beside Shannon.

"Why don't you have a go – he said you're a fucking faggot, by the way!"

"Did he now?" Jamie queried, knowing that Shannon was just teasing him.

Jamie scanned the various items which Shannon had laid out on a table. His eyes stopped on a certain item and he smiled. After a quick check of the label and the items constituents, he pulled on a pair of thick rubber gloves which Shannon had obtained only the day before. They were a bit big for his small hands, but they were manageable. He carefully unscrewed the cap from the plastic container.

"Do you know what happens when lye gets onto your skin? I understand it hurts like the buggery," Jamie offered conversationally as he carefully poured out about half a litre of the corrosive substance into a glass. "I would recommend ditching this glass once I'm done with it – assuming you're still alive of course!"

Jamie laughed and Shannon cringed – the boy was enjoying himself a lot more than she could ever have anticipated. Jamie leered at the man, searching for a suitable location to strike. The boy walked around the man twice before, without warning, he threw the glass' contents at the man's upper back. At first, the man just felt the cool liquid splashing against his bare back, but then after a minute, he began to feel an itching feeling coming from the same location. As Jamie watched, the skin turned red very quickly as the highly-corrosive drain cleaner worked its way into the man's skin.

The man began to yell out in pain – or at least he tried to; Shannon slapped some more Duct Tape over his mouth to soften the yell. He writhed in pain as his skin was slowly eaten away by the corrosive chemicals. Jamie took a step forwards and he drove a small throwing knife into the man's left thigh. Lewis' eyes almost bulged out of their sockets as the pain registered in his brain, then they bulged out yet further as Jamie drove an identical blade into the man's right thigh.

"Are we having fun, yet?" Jamie demanded, his tone one of anger. "You know where she is – I fucking know it!"

The man's eyes, though registering unimaginable pain, were also registering belligerence. Jamie picked up a two-by-four inch piece of timber about three-foot-long which he had discovered in the garage. The sound was surprisingly satisfying as the wood struck the man's ribcage and something gave with a sharp snap. Jamie grinned as an idea struck him.

"Never tried this – let me know if it hurts. . ."

The man's eyes followed the tip of the piece of wood as Jamie moved it around, flexing his arms. Then he swung the wood above his right shoulder and then the boy drove it down hard, directly onto the protruding hilt of the knife in Lewis' right thigh.

"Fuck me!" Shannon exclaimed, a hand over her mouth as blood spurted over her clothing and across her face.

"That worked better than I thought," Jamie commented as he examined the hilt of the knife which had been driven almost flush with the man's skin.

Lewis was shaking violently in reaction to the strike and his thigh was trembling with the trauma it was enduring. Then it was time for the blood-letting. Shannon pulled off her bloody top, revealing a white bra.

"White? You really picked the wrong colour, huh?" Jamie quipped.

"All the other colours were down for the wash, okay?"

"Just commenting – jeez!"

"Shut the fuck up, Rage!"

Shannon took hold of a pair of kitchen knives appropriated from the cunt's kitchen. They were sharp and very smart looking – they were also perfect for the job.

..._...

Jamie was a little put out by Shannon's grins as she began to slash the man's chest. Blood began to spill and run down the man's body before finally dripping onto the floor at his feet. Splashes of blood were sent flying through the air, most landing on Shannon but the rest landed on Jamie as he stood close by to observe. Was Shannon going too far? Was she enjoying herself too much? From a certain point, Jamie was enjoying himself too – but only so far.

The man was the enemy, so Jamie felt no remorse over what he was witnessing or for what he had so far made the man endure. He wanted his friend back and he would do anything to improve those chances – even torturing a man to death to get the information that they needed to find Abigail. Jamie was no stranger to blood – that was something which they exorcised very quickly during the early part of Phase 1 training. There were always several kids who could not cope with the sight of blood – either they got over it very quickly. . . Needless to say, Jamie tolerated the sight of blood – he hated the smell and he hated seeing it, but he tolerated it.

The man passed out after almost thirty minutes and Shannon expected him to remain that way until morning. The most serious wounds were patched – to keep him alive, of course. Then they both studied one another.

"You're a mess, boy!"

"You can fucking talk – looks like your tampon exploded!"

Jamie cringed, ready for the slap, but Shannon just laughed. As she was covered in the most blood, she went for a shower first.

..._...

A good fifteen minutes later, Jamie heard a muted scream from the bathroom and when he pushed open the door, be was wide-eyed by what he saw before him. Shannon stood in the shower, leaning against the tiled wall, her eyes tight shut. Her left hand was squeezing her left breast while the fingers of her right hand were deep in her pubic hair. Then Jamie jumped as Shannon screamed out and she braced herself against the shower walls.

"Wow!"

Shannon's eyes snapped open and her cheeks went very pink with a hint of red.

"You weren't supposed to see that. . ."

"Was that an . . .?"

"Orgasm? Yeah!"

Shannon looked distinctly embarrassed.

"Are they always that – err – amazing?"

"Sometimes," Shannon laughed as she finished her shower. "Am I weird, for enjoying what we did tonight?"

"Not really – we're _Predators_ ; they changed us and they made us different to normal people."

"I suppose – your turn."

Jamie stripped off and Shannon smirked as she saw that her antics had had an effect on his body.

..._...

As they lay together on the bed in the man's apartment, they talked about what Jamie had witnessed in the shower and the conversation had moved onto Shannon's body. James curiosity got the better of him as he prodded Shannon's breasts.

"Abigail showed me her vulva – I think that was what she called it. But, she didn't have breasts, nor any hair."

Shannon smiled as she pulled off her towel.

"When I was her age and I got taken for _Urban Predator_ , neither did I. Touch all you want."

Jamie's fingers moved across Shannon's breasts. Jamie thought that the nipples felt weird but nice. He was more than a little rough which Shannon pointed out very quickly.

"Careful!" Shannon snapped. "A girl's nipples are very sensitive."

"Sorry – you have very soft skin."

Shannon just smiled as Jamie trailed his fingers lower, down her stomach and then he trailed his fingers through the thick pubic hair. Shannon found herself breathing heavily as Jamie touched various sensitive areas.

"So – these would be your labia. . ."

"Oh, yeah. . ."

". . . and at the top of your slit would be your clitty-thing."

Shannon took a large intake of breath as she felt Jamie's touch on that very sensitive item which was still throbbing slightly from earlier.

"YES!"

"That was what you were rubbing in the shower?"

"Yes – I think that's enough touching now; we'd better get some sleep."

"Night, Shan."

"Night, Jamie."

* * *

 ** _Early the next morning  
Sunday, August 21st_**

They both awoke early, ate breakfast and returned to Mark Lewis.

The man was awake but struggling with his pain. Shannon ripped off the Duct Tape and she grabbed him by the jaw.

"Where the fuck is she!" Shannon roared as she then reached down and grabbed his penis, squeezing hard.

The man yelped with fear as he tried to pull away from Shannon.

"We have nobody . . . at HQ – we never saw the girl . . . ah . . . after she escaped."

Shannon could see hope in the man's eyes – but there was also deception which could not be allowed. She released his penis and then slapped his testicles hard. The man tried to yell out but his energy was flagging – he had not eaten in over twenty-four hours.

"You know more and I fucking know you do, bastard!"

"Please. . ."

The man was openly sobbing which Jamie found distinctly disturbing – grown men did not cry; at least that was what he thought.

"Wiltshire – he has a facility. . ."

The man was spent – at the end of his tether. Shannon wanted more. She applied some more Duct Tape to his mouth before she continued.

"Rage – move his dick out the way."

Jamie cringed as he lifted the man's penis out the way. Then Shannon moved in with a pair of hefty looking wire cutters. She held them up before the man's eyes – the sobbing had turned to whimpering. It did not take long and Jamie felt a little faint as blood spurted everywhere and the man screamed as a significant part of his manhood dropped to the floor. The man began to shake for a minute and he gasped for breath . . . then there was nothing.

"Fuck!" Shannon growled as she checked his carotid artery.

* * *

 ** _Mayfair_**

By eleven that morning, they were both back at home wearing clean clothes.

They had both showered at the man's place before leaving. Both had remained naked until they had reached the garage – there they had removed clean clothes from a sealed package and quickly dressed before leaving the area just as quickly. Shannon was energised by her morning activities and she dived straight onto the internet, looking for information on Scorpio Enterprises and a possible facility in Wiltshire.

The good news, if there was any, was that Abigail appeared to be safe - somewhere.

* * *

 ** _That afternoon_**

 ** _North of Marylebone Road_**

"I think the man was tortured, sir."

"Do you really?" Commander Patrick Haig enquired of the young police officer who had discovered the body. "Was it the severed testicles which gave it away?"

"Err yes, sir," the officer stammered as he realised just how stupid his statement had been.

"How long has he been like that?" Commander Haig asked the medical examiner as she supervised the lowering of Mark Lewis' remains into a body bag.

"Looking at the lack of blood in his hands – he's been hanging for over a day. Probably been dead for maybe six hours; I'll know more once I get him and his scrotum back to my table." Alison Drake commented.

"I'll pop down, this evening then, Alison."

"I'll be waiting, Patrick."

* * *

 ** _Four days later  
Thursday, August 25th_**

 ** _Mayfair_**

The news of Mark Lewis' death had not hit the papers, nor the national news.

That fact concerned Shannon – somebody was definitely sitting on his death. After a brief reconnaissance, on the following Monday, Jamie had reported that the police were onsite, but he had not been able to obtain any further information. Shannon had expected a major murder enquiry plus a nationwide manhunt for the killer, but there was nothing.

"Are we getting out of our depth here?" Shannon asked Jamie that morning.

"We _are_ leaving a trail of dead bodies around London – well, you are," Jamie pointed out.

"But it has been worth it. We've gleaned a lot of useful information on Scorpio and that bastard, Fraser. We know that Abigail is not in their custody, for the moment. We know that there are no _Predators_ at the London HQ, neither. How about we take a trip to the West Country?"

"Where?" Jamie asked as he stared at a map of Wiltshire on the laptop.

"Not figured that out . . . yet."

..._...

Shannon spent hours staring at maps and she had them strewn all over the living room – yes, paper maps; courtesy of Amazon.

Shannon preferred the physical things compared to the electronic versions – paper maps generally did not break, lose connection to the internet, nor did their batteries go flat. It was one of the more curious aspects of _Urban Predator_. Despite the otherwise hi-tech training involving the latest weaponry, computers, and technologies such as GPS, the young Predators were also taught more arcane methods such as navigating with a paper map and a physical compass.

Most _Predators_ had never actually _seen_ a paper map before and many had absolutely no idea what to do with the funny device that span around but always pointed in a certain direction. Being dumped in a quiet section of the desert, at night, with just a piece of paper and a compass was a little disconcerting when those two items were all that was between you and starvation – the instructors did _not_ go and collect those who got lost!

Jamie had left his crazy friend to her maps and he had gone back to his training. Shannon had reappeared for meals and sleep, but otherwise, she had her nose embedded in the laptop or some map.

Suddenly, amidst all the chaos, Shannon yelled out: "Jamie!"

..._...

Jamie ran into the living room to find his friend lying on her front on the living room floor scribbling on a map.

"Everything points to there!" she exclaimed as she pointed to a red circle on the map.

Jamie peered over her shoulder to where she was pointing.

"Blandford Forum?"

"Everything points to there," she repeated. "We need to go see what's in the area – that has to be where that bastard has another facility. The facility is black, obviously, or we would have found it in the Yellow Pages. Are you with me?"

Jamie frowned but nodded.

"We go to Wiltshire and we look around – safe and easy; call it a holiday."

"And just how the fuck are we going to get there?" Jamie demanded as Shannon rolled onto her back gleefully.

"Have faith, little one!" Shannon grinned as she jumped to her feet and then grabbed Jamie by the hand. "Come on – follow me!"

Shannon dragged Jamie down a floor and then into the garage. With a flourish, she pulled a cover off one of the items that stood on the concrete floor. Jamie just stared for a moment before he looked up at Shannon as if she had just gone mad.

"You are fucking kidding me!"


	17. Trail

**_The following morning  
Monday, August 22nd, 2016_**

 ** _London_**

They sped through the early morning rush-hour.

Jamie was _not_ convinced that it was a safe method of transport, but he was also fully aware that he had no choice. He also had to admit that the thirteen-year-old girl whose waist he had his arms wrapped around was actually a skilled rider – well, they hadn't hit anything . . . yet! The KTM 690 Duke R was an awesome machine and powerful. There had been a selection of motorcycle helmets in the garage and they had each found one that had fitted.

"Oh, get a fucking grip, boy!" Shannon had laughed when she had seen his expression as she had swung a long leg over the orange and black machine.

They were both armed and they had crammed clothing and other supplies into the twin panniers either side of the machine.

..._...

The A40 was busy – as it was most mornings. They generally headed in a westerly direction, obeying every traffic law and speed limit – it would not do for the police to find the motorcycle in the hands of a thirteen-year-old and an eight-year-old. The ride was to be long – three hours and a little over 125-miles. They would stop more than once to rest. While Shannon was an accomplished rider – and Jamie to some extent – she was not used to long rides. They stopped at the Fleet services on the M3 about an hour and forty minutes into the journey.

"Err Shan?"

"Jamie."

"Did you steal this motorcycle?"

"I bought it yesterday," Shannon laughed. "It's perfectly legal and untraceable. I paid cash, dweeb!"

"What if we. . .?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Jamie!"

Shannon reached into one of the panniers and she produced a yellow number plate – she peeled off two sticky pads on the back of the plate and she slapped it on top of the existing one.

"Happy?"

Jamie smiled.

"You always have everything covered, Shan."

"I do what I can. Let's get on – we have many more miles ahead of us."

"Great – enjoying every minute of it," Jamie grumbled as he climbed up behind Shannon and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Hold on tight, Jamie boy!"

..._...

The rest of the trip was relatively easy and they finally found themselves seated in a small coffee shop located towards the centre of the medieval cathedral city of Salisbury in the county of Wiltshire. After a sandwich, each and some Coke, they both went for a walk to stretch their legs. They walked around the old sections of the city, near to the cathedral, enjoying the seasonally warm weather. It was also a good opportunity to identify if anybody had followed them.

Both _Predators_ were skilled at counter-surveillance but neither were able to identify a single tail. After a visit to a Sainsbury's supermarket to acquire some fresh supplies, they remounted their KTM motorcycle and headed south-west on the A354. The ride was fairly easy and lasted about forty minutes. They were able to zip past any slow or stationary traffic while being very careful not to attract too much attention to the youngsters.

"Where are we?" Jamie inquired as he removed his helmet.

"Badbury Rings."

"That tells me nothing – it just looks like a sequence of grassy mounds."

"That's exactly what it is. It's an Iron Age hill fort whose location for some reason features more than once in my research on Scorpio Enterprises. They gotta have something around here. . ."

"You want me to climb that?" Jamie asked dejectedly as he looked up at the highest part of the mound.

"We need to get a look at the surrounding area and what better way than from the top of a 'grassy mound'?"

"Can't argue with that logic," Jamie growled forlornly and he started walking.

..._...

Two hours later, Jamie was getting annoyed with his companion. Shannon had scanned most of the surrounding area with a pair of large binoculars which _he_ had lugged up the hills – yes, multiple hills – the fort was made up of several earthen barriers each of which had had to be climbed. Shannon would dart from one point to another checking out the horizon and then everything between the horizon and themselves – a timely endeavour. Then things went sour.

"We're being watched, Stormy," Jamie hissed.

"Huh?"

"Three men and a woman."

"You certain."

"I'd bet your pubes on it."

"Funny little shit! Explain."

"They're spacing themselves to cover any immediate escape route. I saw the muzzle of a pistol sticking out from beneath the woman's jacket. They're not behaving like tourists, neither."

"Well reasoned, Jamie. I agree with you but right now, we are over six-hundred yards from our ride. Almost seven-hundred if we have to go around the fort."

"Okay – we kill them," Jamie suggested.

"In broad daylight before a hundred witnesses?"

"The same might apply to them," Jamie offered hopefully.

"Yeah – let's try it; we split up and meet back at the ride, 'kay?"

"See ya, Stormy!"

Both kids were on the north-east side of the fort, so they could only go north and south. Shannon headed south, taking the longest route – she had the longer legs and she could run the fastest, leaving Jamie to take the shorter northern route.

..._...

Jamie ran along the earthen defences before throwing himself down the bank and then running up the other side. His rapid movements had momentarily come as a surprise to the watchers; as had Shannon's. Two of the men went after the girl while the other man and the woman went after Jamie. The boy never stopped – he just ran and ran, dodging tourists and trying not to draw too much attention to himself; not all that hard as a running boy wasn't really out of the ordinary. His pursuers were obviously trying to keep a low profile or they would have taken him out hard – with a pistol. But not too low a profile; as he ran he was taken down by the woman who had leapt at him and knocked him down into the grass between two earthen berms.

Jamie responded by kicking the bitch in her mouth. She yelled out in pain with blood spilling from her smashed nose and torn lips. Jamie was able to scramble away from her but before the boy could regain his feet, her partner seized hold of his arm. The man received an elbow in his gut followed by a punch to his face and another to his chest. Jamie then kicked him hard between the legs. The vicious attack, over only a few seconds, incapacitated the man.

Jamie ran on, heading towards the motorcycle and, he hoped, safety.

..._...

Shannon had heard yelling from the other side of the fort – adult yells. Unfortunately, she had no time to worry about Jamie – she had her own problems. Two men were getting very close, despite her long legs and the fact that she was sprinting faster than she could remember. As she came around the south end of the fort, she was forced to the ground as one of the men dived at her. They both rolled into a ditch and Shannon received a sharp punch to her side. She screamed out in pain and kicked the man as hard as she could in his stomach. He seized her foot and pulled her towards him. Shannon was having none of it; she fought hard to make him lose his grip which he did but then she fell into the hands of the other man who had a pistol out. Shannon dove at him and she twisted the pistol toward the man's left thigh and then pulled the trigger.

The pistol was suppressed but the man's scream of pain was not. Shannon shoved him away and ran hard. As she reached the base of the fort, she smiled with relief as she saw Jamie running flat out on an intercept course. Not too far behind him, she could see two people running – one of whom, Shannon noticed with a smirk, was a woman and she had a bloody face.

As usual, Jamie was giving as good as he got!

..._...

Shannon was shaking by the time she skidded to a halt on the loose gravel beside the motorcycle. Sweat was dripping off her as she passed Jamie his helmet and she pulled her own down over her sweat-soaked hair. Within another minute, they were racing off down the track towards the main road. They heard the sharp wheel-spin of a vehicle accelerating after them, the engine revving hard. Shannon took a left at the main road and she raced down the road as fast as she dared.

Four miles later, Shannon slowed the motorcycle as they entered the very narrow streets of Wimborne Minster. After riding round the streets for almost twenty minutes checking for a tail, Jamie nudged Shannon and pointed at a row of parked motorcycles. She parked the KTM and with a black marker pen, she altered the registration plate from **FG16 FDL** to **EG16 EBE**. It wasn't perfect, but it would be good enough when viewed from a short distance away. They both ran off, together, into the market town and then into a busy supermarket.

There, they sought out a cold drink and some food at the café.

* * *

 ** _The following morning  
Tuesday, August 23rd_**

 ** _Wimborne, Dorset_**

"This has to be one of the _worst_ damn ideas that you've _ever_ had, Stormy!" Jamie moaned.

The disgruntled boy was sitting up in his sleeping bag and he glared down at his companion who lay beside him.

"Stop your moaning, Jamie boy – we needed somewhere safe to sleep; you know that those bastards would be checking out hotels and we don't really need a repeat of Whitby," Shannon pointed out.

"This tent stinks," Jamie complained.

"Yes, we both need a shower or even a bath," Shannon confirmed as she sat up, wriggling out of her own sleeping bag.

"I need to wee," Jamie complained as he scrambled out of his sleeping bag and unzipped the inner and outer door panels of the tent.

The little campsite was very busy for the time of year with many tents, caravans, and kids running around all over the place. To be honest, Jamie blended in with all the other eight-year-old boys running around and he joined several other boys in the toilets at the urinals. By the time he had finished, washed his hands and face, and then headed back towards the tent, he passed Shannon who was on her way to the toilet block.

"I'll start getting breakfast ready," Jamie called as they passed.

..._...

By the time Shannon returned to the tent, Jamie was messing about with a small camping stove upon which sat a kettle which was bubbling merrily and steam was hissing out of the spout. Two plastic cups were sitting in the grass, each with a teabag in situ. As Shannon sat down, Jamie very carefully poured the hot water into the two cups. Once done, he replaced the kettle and handed a cup to Shannon.

"Where's the milk?" she asked.

"Sorry – I spilt it."

"All of it?"

"Yeah."

"I hate tea without milk!" Shannon groused as she sipped at the hot liquid.

"How about we go find some bacon sandwiches?" Jamie suggested.

"I _am_ hungry . . . plus this tea sucks!"

Jamie scowled.

"I'm sorry, Jamie; you've still got a lot to learn."

"You're stormy today, Stormtide – talk about a storm in a teacup!"

Stormtide growled as she poured away her tea.

..._...

After a large breakfast at a small café in the town, the two runaway _Predators_ packed up their gear and stowed it all in and on the motorcycle. They headed south, not wanting to re-enter the hornet's nest immediately. Scorpio was not going anywhere and the two youngsters had had enough fun for that week. After an hour's ride, they paused at Poole Quay, in the coastal town and seaport of Poole.

"I would love to have one of those, one day," Jamie commented as he stared with barely concealed envy across the narrow stretch of water at the ultra-decadent, world-leading yacht designer and manufacturer: Sunseeker International.

Moored alongside their place of birth were half a dozen, state of the art, sleek as hell, luxury yachts.

"They are beautiful, Jamie. You get one of them and I might just come aboard and set sail with you."

"Fat chance!" Jamie replied. "I'll _never_ see inside a luxury yacht as long as I live."

..._...

Twenty minutes later, after having cruised past Poole Park, they stopped at the junction of Whitecliff Road and Sandbanks Road.

"We have a problem," Jamie hissed over the intercom in their helmets.

"Huh?"

"Check your mirrors."

"Oh, crap!" Shannon commented when she checked her mirrors as Jamie had directed and there, about twenty yards behind, was a marked police motorcycle – a powerful BMW. "Just pretend we ain't seen him."

Shannon indicated and turned right onto Sandbanks Road keeping below the speed limit.

"Stay under thirty," Jamie suggested.

"I am."

The police motorcycle was still there, twenty yards behind. Shannon felt very uneasy and that feeling just turned into alarm as the blue lights on the motorcycle began strobing and the siren sounded twice. The police officer pointed directly at Shannon as she looked behind her and he pointed her to the side of the road.

"You'd better pull over," Jamie suggested.

"Like hell!"

"Why not?"

"Is he a real policeman? You see Terminator 2?"

"Stormy – you on your period, again?"

"Fuck this!" Shannon growled as she opened up the KTM's 690cc engine.

The police BMW was only feet behind, siren wailing, as they hurtled down Sandbanks Road which quickly turned into Shore Road. Neither _Predator_ had the remotest aspiration of actually outrunning the performance motorcycle which cruised a few feet behind them but they were going to damn well try. They overtook several cars as they went, often riding on completely the wrong side of the road. The only time they pulled away from the pursuing police officer was when he slowed for the safety of other road users but he quickly regained his position a few feet off their rear wheel.

"Well, he keeps up with us like a real policeman," Jamie pointed out.

"You want me to shove a tampon in your gob?" Shannon shot back. "I'll make it a used one if you'd like. . ."

The road curved around before passing through a very expensive neighbourhood where only multi-millionaires and billionaires lived. Along the way, the single motorcycle has been joined by a police car. Ahead of them, they discovered a very long queue of cars stretching off in front of them. Shannon manoeuvred past, ignoring the irate beeps of the waiting drivers. A car almost cut Shannon up but they skirted past with barely an inch to spare – the policeman was not as lucky as he was forced to brake heavily. A minute later, Shannon grinned as she saw the queue begin to dissipate ahead but then the road curved to the left and . . .

"Holy, shit!" Shannon yelled as she slammed on the brakes and the KTM slewed to a halt.

"What the fuck, are you stopping for?" Jamie demanded.

"Because there's no more fucking road!" Shannon swore.

Jamie looked ahead and he saw that Shannon was indeed correct; the road stopped at a slipway which vanished into Poole Harbour. The ferry was loaded with vehicles and was just about to leave; the ramp was raising up off the slipway. Shannon spun the rear wheel and made for the ramp passing aboard and then through the gates which were just being closed by an attendant.

"Crazy bastards!" the attendant yelled at them as he shook his head.

..._...

The ride across took four minutes, during which time the police motorcyclist appeared on the slipway which they had just left. Shannon had not wanted to cross the ferry but there had been no realistic choice. The chains which the ferry used to propel itself clanked noisily but the crossing was smooth and Jamie thought it was brilliant. Once across, they awaited their turn to disembark before paying the toll - £1 – and then heading south, passing through the village of Studland and then picking up the road to Swanage.

The seaside town of Swanage was full of tourists and they blended in well. They found a suitable place to park the KTM and Shannon swiftly switched the number plate. They then removed their leathers and in just shorts and T-shirts, they headed into the town with Shannon carrying a backpack over her shoulder. Their first stop was the beach where Jamie pulled off his T-shirt, kicked off his boots, and ran into the water. Shannon did the same and joined her companion splashing around in the cool waters.

Jamie enjoyed play fighting with Shannon as he took her feet out from under her and she fell under a large wave before coming back up coughing, spluttering, and muttering obscenities between splutters. The dip in the sea served as a makeshift bath as well as a chance to observe their surroundings and check for any followers. The police would have no idea who they were, so they were safe behaving like two youngsters enjoying their time on a sandy beach and splashing in the cool sea. They stayed there for almost an hour of splashing, shouting, and generally behaving like young kids – for the first time in a _very_ long time.

As they both staggered from the water, they found their backpack and Shannon pulled out two large towels which she laid out on the sand. Both laid down and enjoyed the warm sun on their bodies. Jamie reached over with his left hand and he gripped Shannon's right, squeezing tightly. Shannon squeezed back, enjoying the sun that dried her skin and her clothing. It was the first time in days that they had been able to unwind – even slightly. The narrow escape the previous afternoon had been a shock to the system – even if it had not exactly been unexpected!

Lunch was a massive portion of fish and chips each – the cod was particularly good.

* * *

 ** _Early the following morning  
Wednesday, August 24th_**

 ** _Swanage, Dorset_**

Not surprisingly, they had both been very tired that evening after they had pitched the tent in a secluded corner of a nondescript camp site.

They had had a busy day just being kids. After their lunch, they had feasted on ice cream and almost made themselves feel sick. They had purposely kept away from the motorcycle and remained on foot. They had seen several police vehicles around during the day but the police were operating blind, looking for two short people in motorcycle leathers. After cleaning their pistols, they had fallen asleep after a supper of pork pies and sausage rolls, washed down with Coke.

Jamie awoke just as dawn's early light began to filter into the tent. He checked his watch – it was a little after five in the morning – and then he looked over to check on Shannon. Only, Shannon's sleeping bag was empty. Jamie sat up and he could hear a scuffling from behind the tent. He dug his hand under his sleeping bag and pulled out his pistol as he scrambled for the doorway which was unzipped. Carefully, Jamie stepped outside, cringing as his bare feet touched the damp, cold grass. He moved towards the scuffling sound which had turned into a different sound and he triggered the flashlight located beneath the pistol's barrel.

"Fuck off, Jamie!" Shannon growled.

Jamie did so, his mind reeling at what he had seen. Shannon was naked from the waist down and peeing into the grass.

"Sorry, Shan – I didn't know it was you."

Shannon wiped herself with some toilet paper and then quickly pulled up her knickers.

"I had to go and the toilet block was too far!" Shannon explained as they regained their sleeping bags.

"That was a little more than I had expected to be seeing – remined me not to go behind the tent in the morning," Jamie suggested.

"Oh, ha, fucking ha!"

Jamie returned the pistol from whence it had come and he lay back down again and closed his eyes – he was tired and he could do without Shannon pissing away his sleep.

..._...

That afternoon, they packed up and left Swanage behind. There was work to be done and Scorpio would not fall on its own – unfortunately! The ferry via Sandbanks was probably a no-go zone, so they opted to take the long way around via Corfe Castle and Wareham. It was a scenic route and again, Shannon was able to zip in and out of the traffic as they curved around Poole Harbour. At Lytchett Minster, they picked up the A35 dual-carriageway which would take them back towards Poole where they by-passed the centre and made for the adjoining seaside town of Bournemouth. As they picked up the Wessex Way, heading east, Jamie nudged Shannon.

"Shan – I hate to say this, but what would you think if there just happened to be three guys behind us, all dressed in black, and all riding black motorcycles?"

"Then we might have a problem," Shannon replied as she checked her mirrors closely.

"Would that problem grow if there was also a pair of black Ford Mondeos, too?"

"Jamie, are you shitting me?"

"I wish I was, Stormy."

"Maybe they're not after us," Shannon suggested.

As Shannon passed around the Bournemouth West Roundabout, taking the first exit, she felt a chill which went from the top of her back, all the way to the bottom. Then, as she glanced into her right-hand rear view mirror, she caught a flash and then she heard the bullet whiz past her head.

"Stormy – they're shooting at us," Jamie offered unnecessarily.

"Tell me something, I don't know!"

"Nothing comes to mind – just fucking step on it!"

They had no idea that they were heading directly for the very centre of Scorpio's very large web.


	18. Escape

**_Wednesday, August 24th, 2016_**

 ** _Bournemouth, Dorset_**

Stormtide was trying to figure out if they were warning shots, serious shots, or just maybe: scare the fuck out of the little shits shots.

She figured that Scorpio had to have some competent shooters, so they had to be warning shoots – her reasoning was that they had both been easy targets for at least a mile before Rage had even noticed that they were there. It was obvious that nobody was too bothered about firing off bullets in a densely-populated seaside resort full of tourists and innocent people who they might just turn into collateral damage. Some of the shots were getting closer and closer which scared the hell out of the teenaged assassin. Rage was a little more nervous as he was _behind_ Stormtide and therefore, _he_ would be struck first while he acted as a human shield for his partner _Predator_.

'Way to go, Rage – you're now Stormtide's flak jacket!' he thought dolefully as they zigzagged in and out of the traffic.

"You got any ideas, Stormy?"

"Maybe – how about you give those cunts something to think about?"

Rage grabbed hold of Stormtide's belt with his left hand as he twisted his body around so that he could aim his pistol. He squeezed off two shots at the nearest motorcyclist giving him pause for thought, then he adjusted his aim and sent a bullet into the windscreen of one of the Mondeos – he swore bitterly.

"Problem?" Stormtide asked.

"Nah – just bulletproof glass in the cars," he replied sardonically.

Stormtide just concentrated on keeping control of the motorcycle as she topped ninety miles per hour. Rage snapped off a few random rounds to keep the pursuing motorcyclists' heads down, knowing that they were not carrying all that much in the way of spare ammunition.

Stormtide decided that she would have to come up with something – and fast!

..._...

As they hurtled along the A338, they barely gained an inch on their pursuers. Stormtide, being the incredible bookworm that she was, had poured over maps of the area just the previous afternoon. Her memory was able to recall the road in her head. She matched that with what the satnav screen, mounted in front of her, was showing of the road ahead. Leaving the braking until the last second, she took the exit for the B3073 taking the sharp curve at speed before braking more heavily as they approached the T-junction at the end of the slip road. Stormtide was able to slip past three cars and then caught an amber light as she turned right. With a smirk, she saw the two Ford Mondeos join the queue for the traffic lights while the motorcycles headed up the centre and stopped at the white line.

Stormtide rode up Christchurch road. She slowed a short distance later as traffic stopped for a roundabout. Stormtide growled as Rage nudged her and she looked into her right-hand rear-view mirror. She saw the three black-clad motorcyclists gaining fast. She took a right turn and then a left onto Matchams Lane. The Mondeos were back and the motorcyclists allowed them into pole position behind the fleeing _Predators_. The road was not wide and overtaking was difficult, if not suicidal.

"Rage – aim between the headlights," Stormtide shouted.

Rage twisted in the saddle and he squeezed off two shots. The first bullet skimmed off the bonnet with a flash of sparks while the second vanished inside the engine compartment. Rage noticed the look of consternation on the face of the driver as he fought to control his car. Steam was being emitted from both sides of the bonnet and the car began to weave as the engine began to overheat as a direct result of the damage to its primary cooling radiator being damaged and the coolant which splattered all over the road. The engine failed completely as the bullet-nicked fuel line split completely spilling diesel onto the road to join the coolant. As various other systems failed, the large vehicle began to swerve across the road into the soft banking at the side of the road. The Mondeo behind slammed on its brakes and narrowly missed colliding with its damaged twin.

The three motorcycles, however, were able to slip through the small gap at the rear of the crashed Mondeo.

..._...

"Two cars down, but we've still got the three two-wheelers," Rage called out.

"Three is better than five, in my book, Rage!"

Stormtide knew that the other motorcycles had the edge on the long straight road, but the road was also lethal as it undulated up and down enough to have cars 'catching air' for a fraction of a second – on a motorcycle at speed, it was lethal. Stormtide had noticed a car ahead leaping and them bottoming out with a grinding of metal ahead of her, so she slowed down as she went over the hump and came down with a thud having warned Rage to hang on tight. The first motorcycle only had eyes for his targets and he was caught out as his heavy machine went airborne before coming down hard and he wobbled before his motorcycle became a flying lump of metal and he was thrown onto the road, rolling several times before coming to rest face down and remaining still.

"And then there were two!" Rage commented darkly.

His companions noticed the crash and they quickly applied their brakes just in time to avoid an identical fate. Stormtide accelerated keeping a wary eye open for the next undulating dip. Four more times she braked and they caught air before coming down with a thump. Rage loved it and he was laughing despite the looming danger behind them. Stormtide had to admit that it was an exhilarating ride. Ahead, Stormtide noticed the sign she had been looking for and she took a hard-left turn heading into the rear of Bournemouth International Airport. The road quickly narrowed and passed over some boggy ground before opening up again. The road, Mountbatten Drive, curved around the right and then to the left as it negotiated various storage areas. After about half-a-mile, Stormtide had an idea and she took a right into some trees up a small concrete road which was overgrown and appeared abandoned. Another right brought them up to some abandoned Nissan huts that had to be fifty to sixty years old. They were covered in vegetation and they provided a perfect place to hide the KTM.

Neither _Predator_ spoke as they prepared their meagre weapons and stood ready to ambush the motorcyclists. Their engines were audible as they slowed down having lost immediate sight of the fleeing KTM. One rider turned up the overgrown concrete road then he stopped. He studied the ground and then he smirked behind his visor; he had noticed a fresh tyre impression in the mud beside the concrete. He was too focussed on his task to consider that Stormtide might have left the track on purpose – which she had. The man was cautious, though, and he stopped his motorcycle ten yards in, cutting the engine.

He dismounted and then pulled a Heckler & Koch MP7 PDW out from one of his two panniers and cocked the weapon before moving slowly towards the Nissan huts.

..._...

Stormtide was taking point while Rage would provide cover. Stormtide had watched the man approach and communicated the fact that he was alone to Rage who had acknowledged. No sound was made by either of the _Predators_ ; they relied on hand signals to communicate as they listened to the man's very cautious approach. Rage would attack first with Stormtide covering his back – there was another rider out there and they were not about to make a rookie mistake and forget that!

Rage waited behind the overgrown Nissan hut and he listened for the footfalls coming closer. The rider was good but he was not silent. Stormtide had used a small mirror to peer around the corner (Jamie teased her relentlessly about that mirror – she used it to check her hair: 'every thirty seconds' as far as Jamie was concerned) and she could see that the man had removed is helmet. He was Caucasian and he looked like he could handle himself – his face bore a short scar just below the left eye and (Stormtide had thought) he looked mean.

The leather-booted lower leg appeared in Rage's vision and he slashed out with his knife, ramming it into the man's thigh. The man bellowed out in agony as bright red blood fell onto the greenery around the abandoned buildings. Stormtide kicked him in the head while Rage stamped on his face. The man's yells ended smartly as he lost consciousness. Without a moment's hesitation, Jamie swept up the MP7 and slung it over his shoulder. He checked to ensure that the magazine was full before running back towards the man's ride. Stormtide quickly frisked the man and she seized three 17-round magazines full of nine-millimetre ammunition. His pistol was just added weight which they had no need of at that point.

Stormtide pulled the KTM from the undergrowth and she pushed the machine back to the concrete road before mounting the machine. Rage ran up with two spare 20-round MP7 magazines in his grubby little mitts, both of which quickly vanished into the KTM's left pannier. Stormtide had barely restarted the engine when they heard a high-powered machine heading in their direction at speed. Stormtide accelerated hard and the raced past scar-face's machine which was on its side and with obvious damage to its electrical system. Stormtide raced out of the concrete side road and headed south past Cobham Aviation Services with the solo black-clad motorcyclist in hot pursuit.

Stormtide took a hard left onto the main taxiway.

..._...

The pair of fleeing _Predators_ followed the taxiway which curved towards the end of Runway 26. As Stormtide came up to the white-painted threshold markings at the very end of the runway, she blanched as a Ryanair Boeing 737-800 came up the opposite taxiway from the Main Terminal. The aircraft slammed on its brakes as the pilot saw the orange motorcycle ahead of him. Stormtide had no choice but to turn down Runway 26 and she accelerated hard, topping one hundred miles-per-hour as she went before she slowed and took a right towards Honeywell Aerospace.

The entire way, they were pursued by the black-clad motorcyclist . . . and a flurry of yellow-painted airport vehicles and two police vehicles. As Stormtide manoeuvred her way past Honeywell Aerospace, she was able to pick up an exit route which took them both beyond the airport's boundary, at Chapel Gate and Parley Lane. They raced down Parley Lane and Rage got a bullseye as he put a bullet into their pursuer's helmet, sending the rider spinning off his ride which crashed into the airport boundary fence. The dead body struck a passing car, smashing the windscreen.

"Not bad if I do say so, myself," Rage preened as Stormtide just shook her head in disgust.

Stormtide grinned inside her helmet – they were in the clear and away from Scorpio. She felt the squeeze around her waist and she knew that Rage was thinking exactly the same thing. Forty-five minutes (and another number plate) later, they were heading up the A31, towards London.

"How many of those damn things have you got?" Rage had demanded as the latest number plate had been applied.

"A good magician never gives away their secrets. . ." had been the cryptic response.

* * *

 ** _That evening_**

 ** _London  
East End_**

It was a shithole, but the bastard who ran it was happy to accept cash without a credit card for the deposit. The KTM was locked up in a back alley and covered in a very dirty tarpaulin.

They were exhausted but their training precluded their immediate return to the Mayfair house. They would need to scout the area to ensure that it was safe to go back there and that could only be done when fully awake and at one-hundred percent readiness. Instead, they both showered and ate a take-away pizza before they slipped into the same double-bed together.

They both fell asleep within seconds.

* * *

 ** _Wednesday, August 31st_**

 ** _Mayfair_**

They had spent three days watching the house.

Nobody had come near it and no lights had come on after dark. As far as they could tell, it was just as empty as when they had left it. Shannon made the decision to check it out and she went right up to the front door, inserted the key, and went inside. Everything looked just as they had left it. She went back outside, locking the front door as she went. She nodded at Jamie, and they both headed back to their hovel to retrieve their equipment. Shannon decided against moving the KTM and it was left under the tarpaulin where it had sat for the better part of a week.

Two hours later, they were back. Shannon unlocked, just as before, and they both headed upstairs, dumping their packs beside the garage door as they went. Their first stop was the kitchen to grab a cold can of Coke each from the fridge. Jamie headed for the living room to watch TV while Shannon took a long pull of her Coke before she turned to follow Jamie.

..._...

"Welcome home, Jamie."

Jamie's mouth quite literally dropped open as he came face to face with William Fraser, Managing Director of Scorpio Enterprises. The man was sitting, quite comfortably it seemed, in one of the chairs in the living room.

"You going to introduce me to your bitch?" he asked calmly as Shannon was dragged into the room by a large goon and another seized hold of Jamie.

She was struggling to break free of the iron grip on her arms, but to no avail.

"Go fuck yourself, grandpa!" Jamie growled in response.

"Any chance either of you knows where my deputy head of security, might be?"

"Which part?" Shannon retorted.

"So, it was you who killed him."

"I'm thirteen-years-old, arsehole – I don't kill people!" Shannon retorted.

"Is that so. Thanks to you, I have had to clear up more corpses that I would have liked. Do you know how much it costs to make a dead body disappear?"

"Five quid?" Shannon responded facetiously.

Fraser stood up and he backhanded Shannon across the face.

"You two have meddled in my affairs for long enough; you will both serve me – or you will die, here and now," Fraser said in an even tone.

"Kill us," Jamie retorted as she struggled in the goon's iron grip.

"I'm ready to die," Shannon acknowledged.

Fraser shook his head.

"There's no need for any of that. I'm sure we can find something worthwhile for you two to do within my organisation. I know of people who would pay top money to stick their penis inside that cunt of yours. You still a virgin, or are you the slut that I think you are?"

Shannon did not reply, she just seethed and struggled even harder to make her escape.

"Oh, you will do well, girl – I think you will be a very great asset. As for you, Jamie – I can make money from you, too. There are rich men out there who would pay thousands for a night with you. Conversely, some very rich women would enjoy having both of you for a night or two. I myself have no interest in those goings on, nor the movies that are made, however, the money is very, very good. Unfortunately, for you, girl, you'll be all but spent by the time you turn eighteen."

Shannon glanced at Jamie as both were restrained with plastic cuffs at their wrists. They were in trouble.

So much trouble.

..._...

It was Jamie's goon who made the mistake.

The man was taking Jamie downstairs when Jamie suddenly went limp and almost fell down the stairs. The goon grabbed him by both arms – the 'goods' were _not_ to be damaged in _any_ way. . . Jamie took the opportunity to bring his feet up and his cuffed wrists forward. Within a second, he had his wrists in front of him and two seconds later he had broken the plastic cuffs. The goon seemed very slow on the uptake and was obviously more muscles than brains. Jamie drove his head backwards and smashed the goon's nose – the goon dropped Jamie who rolled forwards and flipped down the stairs, landing on his arse at the bottom.

Jamie dived for a hidden pistol which sat in bottom of a wellington boot. He grabbed the magazine from the other boot and loaded the pistol, racking back the slide to chamber a round. The goon on the stairs found himself staring into a pistol. The stupid idiot reached for his own but before his hand had moved six inches, he was dead with a bullet in the head. Jamie leapt over the idiot's inert body and he came face to face with Shannon and her captor. Jamie never hesitated as he dropped the man with a single bullet to the head. Shannon issued a muted scream as some of the man's blood splashed across her face but she quickly appropriated the man's pistol before diving off to one side as machinegun fire shredded the stairway.

"I think we might have outstayed our welcome," Jamie yelled over the raging gunfire.

"Me, too," Shannon replied as she grabbed Jamie's hand and they both ran towards the door to the street, sweeping up their backpacks as they went.

A large man stood there, armed with an automatic weapon and a smug look. He fired several bullets into the floor, forcing Jamie and Shannon into the adjacent study.

"The window!" Shannon yelled as she raised the appropriated pistol.

"You, damn crazy bitch!" Jamie yelled back as he raised his pistol.

Both opened fire together, shattering the glass and the wooden window frame. They both ran at the window just as bullets followed them across the room and they both smashed through what remained and fell to the street, rolling to absorb the impact.

The gunfire ripped out above their heads as they bolted down the street.

They were running and they were running fast.


	19. Capture

**_Wednesday, August 31st, 2016_**

 ** _Mayfair_**

 _They were running and they were running fast._

They made it back to the hovel which had been their lodgings and quickly uncovered the motorcycle. Shannon started the machine and Jamie climbed up behind her. No conversation was exchanged – they both felt very scared and more than a little depressed about how things had turned out.

Shannon made the decision to head west, back towards hell – Fraser would never expect that she reasoned.

..._...

After a tortuous route across the country, avoiding major roads and locations where they might be easily spotted. It was dark as they pulled up outside a caravan park on the outskirts of Andover. They rode in as if they belonged there and then, after dark, they brazenly walked up to what turned out to be a rental caravan and currently empty, so they figured that as long as they were out early the following morning, all would be well. They both slept on the floor with a blanket pinched from a cupboard. Jamie squirmed into Shannon for warmth and she wrapped her arms around the boy, pulling him close.

They both fell asleep almost immediately.

* * *

 ** _Thursday, September 1st_**

The first night had been hell.

Once they had found a place to eat, the following morning, which was safe, they talked – if only to keep up their sagging morale.

"How were you taken, Shan?" Jamie asked as he dug into his bacon roll.

Shannon looked even more miserable as she thought back.

"Sorry – I shouldn't have asked. . ."

"No, Jamie – it's a story that has to come out, one day, and I want to tell it."

"Okay."

"I was nine. It was the beginning of November 2011. Things were going badly at home. Daddy had lost his job – stormed out, he said – and been deployed elsewhere; he had left that very night. I was upset, so I had decided to go for a walk. . ."

* * *

 ** _November 2nd, 2011_**

 ** _Colorado Springs_**

The young girl was in a foul mood and glaring at the sidewalk as she made her way anywhere but home.

The nine-year-old never saw that she was being followed by a team of four men. Two were on foot, a dozen or so yards behind her. The other pair were in a drab-coloured, mud-streaked, Jeep SUV. Despite her anger, her mind told her to stop before she crossed the street. So, dutifully as she had been taught back when she was four, she stopped at the kerb and she looked right, left, and then right again. As she crossed the street, she clocked the Jeep SUV coming toward her from the left but it was far enough away that she was able to continue crossing the street safely.

Despite her anger with her father, she followed all that he had taught her and she was a very street-smart youngster. She knew that she should not speak to a stranger and she knew that her best safety mechanism was her voice and her lungs. Her Daddy had taught her to yell and scream should anything bad happen to her – it might scare her assailant and it could signal that she was in distress and in need help. None of that was in the forefront of her mind as she continued along the sidewalk. Her anger-fogged mind did register the sound of a car engine very close by, however, and then the squeal of brakes.

She turned just as any curious youngster might, only to find the Jeep SUV beside her and a man coming towards her from two each direction on the sidewalk. Her mind told her that something was very wrong but she froze not knowing what to do – so she screamed and she screamed. That did not last long as a hand clamped over her mouth and she was physically hauled into the backseat of the SUV. The hand was replaced by a piece of tape and a hood came down over her head.

"Fucking move and I'll fucking slit your throat!" a hoarse voice hissed in her ear.

Shannon froze, sobbing silently.

..._...

It was a relatively short journey before the SUV stopped and Shannon was hauled out of the SUV. She blinked in the harsh light which filled her vision as the hood was yanked off her head. The tape was ripped off her mouth and she screamed with the sharp pain.

"Hyde!"

"Yes, instructor!"

Shannon saw a boy run towards them and stop. The boy looked her over briefly before looking up at the man who stood beside her.

"This is Millar, Hyde – you will take her to be processed – you can start the processing over there; dump her clothing in the trash bins."

Shannon struggled to understand what was happening to her – she just registered a few words: '. . . processing . . . clothing . . . trash . . .'

"Yes, instructor – Millar, come with me."

Shannon looked around, totally bewildered as she was led by the boy over towards a collection of large dumpsters. He stopped her and then smirked as he ordered her to strip.

"All your clothes: take them off – now!"

"No way!" Shannon retorted.

"You remove them, or Hyde does," the hoarse voice from earlier called over with a barely concealed chuckle.

Shannon began to shake and the tears flooded down her cheeks as she reluctantly pulled off her clothing, piece by piece. She felt humiliated as she was forced to strip in what was an enormous, and very well lit, vehicle garage. People were visible, just a few dozen yards away – adults and other kids; both male and female. She was even being forced to strip before a boy who was maybe a year or so older than her. She was only nine, so she had nothing to show for herself, but that was not the point; she valued her privacy.

Once she was naked, Shannon gasped as the boy gathered up all her clothing and, without ceremony, it was thrown into a dumpster. She shivered as a cold blast of air-conditioned air rushed over her bare skin covering her with goose bumps. Then the boy took the sobbing girl by the arm and he dragged her through a set of double doors and down several corridors. Shannon's humiliation was increased way beyond anything that she had ever endured as they passed boys and girls of varying ages. Some smirked at her naked body, others looked half apologetic and very grim. Her humiliations continued as they arrived at their destination and Hyde thrust her into a large changing room full of kids, most of whom were naked and showering.

"Get in the shower and get yourself cleaned up," he ordered.

Shannon did as she was ordered, not able to do anything else, her resolve rapidly diminishing.

"Move, you little fuck!" an older girl, naked as the day she was born, growled as she shoved Shannon out of the way.

Shannon struggled to shower in front of all the other kids, especially the boys. She also noticed that they all had short hair – _very_ short hair – even the girls. That fate came to the fore as she left the shower, dripping wet to find a male instructor standing with a battery-powered hair trimmer in his hand. He deftly removed her beautiful long, dirty-blonde hair which she had been growing all her life. She sobbed through the haircut and was then shoved back under a shower to remove the last traces of her hair. After that shower, a white towel was thrown at her and she was finally allowed to cover herself.

Next, she endured a full medical at the hands of a very unfriendly doctor. Shannon was sore by the time she left having been slapped more than once for refusing to comply with directions during her examination. On the other side of the coin, she had left the doctor dressed in grey joggers and a white T-shirt. Hyde then escorted her to draw the rest of her clothing before he took her to her dormitory. There, she was met by many faces all looking at the new girl.

"Welcome to hell!" a girl grinned – she spoke with a strong Irish accent.

"Millar – you get the bed next to the Irish tart!" Hyde said with a wink at the Irish tart.

"Fuck you, Hyde!"

"In my dreams, Doherty, in my dreams!"

* * *

 ** _Thursday, September 1st, 2016_**

So much had happened.

So much crap had been thrown at them. Just the thought of all that had passed was enough to give them the hope that they would eventually find peace.

Jamie had been abandoned, forced out of his lodgings and forced to live hand to mouth constantly watching out for himself. He had taken a trip to Whitby – probably the best decision he had ever made, he thought!

...+...

 _"I saw the commando dagger – I've got one too," Jamie said calmly. "They abandon you as well?"_

 _The girl did not hesitate as she grabbed Jamie's head and pinned him to the table before she twisted his head none too gently to one side so that she could reach his right ear._

 _"Hey – my head is actually attached to me, you know!"_

 _As she let go of his right ear, she released his head and they both sat back._

 _"Sorry – I'm Shannon Drake. . ."_

 _"Jamie Carter . . . thanks for saving my life."_

 _"How old are you?"_

 _"In three months, I'll be nine."_

 _"In four months, I'll be fourteen."_

...+...

That had been three months previously and it had started a wild ride: escaping a raging fire in Whitby, to a cunt of a landlord in Nottingham, to the hell of the Capital.

So much had happened.

..._...

Jamie noticed that Shannon was looking very forlorn. He was not feeling all that happy, either, but he hated seeing his friend unhappy.

"A penny for your thoughts?"

"I was just thinking of my family – what I had left behind. Do you think they will still remember me? I've changed so much."

"Shannon, I'm sure they'll remember you; you've changed, but only for the better."

Shannon grinned sheepishly.

"But, what about what I am? What I have done? I'm a killer."

"So am I, but I don't let it get me down – I know that my parent's will always love me; even if I did kill them and my sister."

"A warped way of looking at it but that's you, Jamie – thanks. I'll always look on you as a very close friend – if you had been older then it might have been something more."

Jamie grinned, his cheeks turning a deep shade of pink.

* * *

 ** _Tuesday, September 6th_**

Each day blended into the next.

They just loitered around supermarket cafés and generally kept out of public view. The depression that both felt was well entrenched and without anything to work towards, they both felt lost. _Predators_ were always intended to work alone but there was always to be a command structure that would oversee their tasking and answer any questions that they might have. The overseeing officer would monitor their welfare until the mission was complete. Once the mission was completed, the _Predator_ would be returned to the fold until they were required for the next mission. During that downtime, they would train and they would have the companionship and human contact of their fellow _Predators_.

Jamie and Shannon had no overseer and they had no other companions or human contact. They were both fugitives of some kind or another. People had died at their hands and the police had to be searching for them – not to mention William 'I'm a complete fucking bastard' Fraser and his mercenary army of wankers – that was Jamie's take on the man.

"He was a creepy bastard," had been Shannon's response.

..._...

That morning, they left the Tesco Superstore and headed for the alley down the side where they had parked their KTM motorcycle.

The time spent wallowing in their own worries had dulled their senses and they never noticed the ambush until it was far too late. Jamie dived for the motorcycle and he was able to grab the MP7 which they had appropriated two weeks previously and as Shannon dove for the ground, Jamie sprayed the alleyway with the full twenty-round magazine. Four men dropped with bullet holes in various painful places. Three of the men died almost instantly while the forth writhed around the concrete floor of the alley grasping his left knee in agony. Jamie feverishly scrambled for a spare magazine but before he could do anything, the remaining two men dived at him. Shannon pulled her own pistol but she dared not shoot in case she hit Jamie. Her indecision cost her as she was struck from behind by more men.

Jamie and Shannon hardly had a chance as they were set upon by a total of six men who kicked and punched them both, ignoring the fact that they were fighting a thirteen-year-old girl, just six weeks before her fourteenth birthday, and a boy with less than a month before his ninth _Predators_ both fought harder than they had ever fought before, knowing that they could not be taken. Shannon got in some good strong kicks early on, as did Jamie, but neither was a match for the men with their huge fists and big muscles. The fight lasted barely five minutes before the two kids were forced to the ground, blood dripping from busted lips and hurt noses. Jamie was in a lot of pain as he tried to regain his feet, but to no avail, as he was well and truly pinned. The boy was roughly searched, as was Shannon – but not well enough; Shannon managed to produce a small knife from her trousers and she slashed a man's leg deeply.

"Fucking little whore!" the man yelled.

"Get her to the van and search her again – better yet, just fucking strip her naked!" another man growled. "The fucking brat, too!"

Duct tape was slapped across both young mouths and the struggling boy and girl were quickly thrown into the back of a windowless panel van which began to move once all the men were aboard. Shannon fought but the men were stronger and within seconds, she was pinned to the steel floor of the van, completely naked. She glared up at the leering men as she was flipped onto her back, Jamie swore and yelled as he also was stripped.

"Let's make sure you're not hiding nothing. . ." one of the men chuckled as he pinned Shannon and then rammed his fingers past her labia and deep inside her.

Shannon screamed in agony as the man pulled out his hand and he wiped it off on Shannon's bare breasts. Jamie made to hit the man but he was punched viciously in the stomach, causing him to double over in agony before he fell to the floor of the van gasping for air.

..._...

An hour later, the van slowed to a stop and the doors were hauled open. Jamie and Shannon had been forced to endure the entire trip lying naked on the bare steel floor of the van. They had both been handcuffed and they were watched every moment of the journey.

Shannon was hauled to her feet first and the handcuffs were removed. Two men armed with Tasers watched her from a few feet away. Shannon's clothes were thrown at her just as Jamie had his own cuffs removed.

"Move it, girl! Pick up your clothes, you little brat!"

Shannon and Jamie did as they were ordered and then the unthinkable happened.

" _NO!_ " Shannon yelled as her friend was dragged off in the opposite direction to where she was being pushed. " _JAMIE!_ "

" _SHANNON!_ " Jamie yelled as he was pulled through a doorway and the door was slammed shut cutting off all sight of Shannon.

Both of them had tears streaming down their faces as they were dragged apart. They both worried that they might never see each other again. Shannon was pulled down a corridor and then dragged up two flights of stairs before she was finally shoved into a room where she fell against the wall, gashing her head as it hit the wooden floor. She lay there, hugging her clothing to her body as she sobbed with the pain from her wounds and the pain inside her from losing Jamie. The door was slammed shut and she heard the sound of bolts being driven home.

Jamie fared little better as he was led down several similar corridors before he found himself thrown into a very small room and the door was yanked shut behind him. He lay on the cold concrete floor and sobbed through the pain that seemed to come from every part of his body and an even deeper pain that stemmed from his heart.

It was the end of the line, both thought.

..._...

Nobody came to see either of them for a full day. They were left cold, miserable, and very hungry. Shannon and Jamie both yelled out for each other and then for anybody – but nobody came. They were forced by their bodies to make use of the plastic bucket which stood in the corner of their cells with an attendant part-used roll of toilet paper. Both had avoided using the bucket for as long as possible but their bodily needs had to be met so they eventually gave in and engaged in the humiliating act.

Shannon was fully aware of what was happening, even if Jamie was not. They were both being conditioned to their new life. Shannon had been there before as she was ripped from her comfortable life in a happy home and then thrust into the harsh environment of the _Predator_. Jamie was young enough that be barely remembered life before he had become a _Predator_ – the boy barely remembered his time as a Yellow.

The monotony for both had been a visit from a tall man who just glared down at the two youngsters while he made notes on his tablet computer.

 _"What do you want?"_

 _"Why are we here?_

 _"Why won't anybody talk to us?"_

The questions went unanswered as nobody spoke to them. The man had left after only a few minutes and a paper plate of cheese sandwiches (it had been difficult to tell which was the paper plate and which was the sandwich) had been left in each 'cell', plus a glass of water. An hour later, the door opened again and bedding was thrown in – a thin mattress, a thin duvet without a cover, and a bare pillow.

That was the last contact either child had with a human being.

* * *

 ** _That morning  
Tuesday, September 13th, 2016_**

She felt so alone.

The loneliness dug into her like a knife.

She longed for human company but apart from some food and water pushed inside her prison cell at indeterminate times of the day – sometimes during the night – she had not heard a voice say a single word to her. She had yelled. She had pleaded. She had begged. Nobody had ever replied. She had strained her ears to hear anything, maybe Jamie's voice, anything that could tell her if he was still alive.

The week of solitude was like nothing which she had ever felt. It reminded the girl of her first two weeks as a _Predator_. Her memories were all she had as she appeared to have no future.

...+...

The Irish girl had been nice to her for about an hour before a whisper had swept around the dormitory spreading to every ear but her own. Shannon had tried to talk to the Irish girl but she just shook her head and moved away. Nobody spoke to her, not even to tease or berate her as had occurred from the moment she had arrived in the dormitory. By dinner, that evening, when Shannon had been forced to sit alone at an empty table to eat, she realised what was happening to her. Her father had used the British term once or twice: she had been sent to Coventry. To send someone to Coventry was an English idiom which related to an often-cruel punishment of deliberately ostracising someone. Kids were especially good at it. The person in question was avoided like they did not exist or they were invisible and inaudible. Nobody would talk to them, nor would anybody tolerate their company.

As if the nine-year-old could not feel any more miserable.

...+...

Surprisingly, that afternoon, the door to her prison cell was opened and a man walked in, pulling the door closed, behind him. Shannon felt fear course through her as he smiled down at her – the smile was evil and Shannon's mind brought forward everything bad which could happen to her and her mind was being very cruel with its visuals. She also took in the scar beneath his left eye.

"Strip, you little bitch – I want some of that soft skin and that tight twat of yours . . . fuckin' move!"

All the fight had gone out of Shannon and the many days of languishing alone in her cell had demoralised her, making her totally compliant. Without a word, or a moment's hesitation, the girl pulled off her dirty clothing and she allowed it to fall to the floor all around her. Shannon's bruised face looked upwards at the man who began to unzip his trousers. The man ignored the many bruises that marred the once beautiful body of the almost fourteen-year-old. His eyes were only interested in the ruby-red nipples, the mass of dark pubic hair and what lay beneath – the bulge in his trousers betrayed that fact to Shannon.

Once the man had thrust his trousers and underwear down around his ankles, he shoved Shannon backwards so she lay on her back on the mattress. The fear in her eyes only increased his hunger for what lay between her perfectly formed thighs. He hastily knelt down, pushing her legs apart and then. . .

..._...

Shannon was shaking with fear.

She was no longer a deadly, killer _Predator_ , she was just a normal teenaged girl who was about to live through the heinous nightmare called rape. She began to sob as she felt his rough hairy skin on her softer skin, she felt something hard being forced between her thighs . . . but then she screamed as she felt something hot and wet strike her chest and face. The man above her had frozen in position but then he fell to his left and rolled onto the floor.

Shannon found herself staring up at a young girl of maybe eight-years-old. She looked very angry. Shannon had no idea what to do so she just lay there, naked and with everything exposed. She could feel herself shaking as she struggled to cope with what had almost come to pass.

"Get up and get dressed – now!" the young girl hissed.

"What?"

"Move it – I can get you out, but only if you hurry."

Shannon sat up but it took the young girl thrusting clothing at her to get her moving. The thirteen-year-old girl pulled on the clothes, urged on by the unknown little girl who stood impatiently before her.

"What's your name?"

"Rebecca."

"I'm Shannon."

"Pleased to meet you – let's go!"

"You a _Predator_?"

"For six whole weeks – but I picked things up fast."

Shannon was ushered out of the cell for the first time in a week. But before Rebecca could drag Shannon away from the prison cell, Shannon pulled her arm away.

"I'm not leaving without Jamie."

"You have to go get help – you can't get to the boy. Please."

"What about you?"

"I'm staying until your friend is safe. I can help him until then."

"Rebecca. . ."

"Please, just go get help. They'll think _you_ murdered that man – not me."

"I promise I'll come back – I owe you, Rebecca."

"Yes, you do – come on!"

Rebecca dragged the reluctant Shannon down various corridors before she stopped at a large wooden door. It was not locked. Rebecca pulled it open, and waved urgently at Shannon to leave.

"You sure?"

"Fucking move!" Rebecca hissed angrily as she forced the door shut on Shannon.

..._...

Shannon found herself outside in the darkness and it was raining.

She had no jacket, just her T-shirt and sweatshirt, jeans and boots so she began to shiver very quickly. She forced her foggy mind to think. She had to be at one of the Scorpio facilities and both had roads not too far away. She willed her mind to function, to remember the maps. Two A roads ran almost east-west to the north-north-west of each site – the A354 and the A30. If she headed north-north-west, she would intersect one of the roads – eventually. She also knew that the night time hike would be hard but she had no choice and somewhere along the line they would come looking for her.

Shannon was under no illusions as to her future – they would kill her instead of capturing her again. She dutifully picked out the north star which was just barely visible through the rain and its associated cloud cover. She adjusted and picked out a landmark on the horizon before starting to walk. Within minutes she was soaked to the skin and mud was clinging to her boots and the legs of her jeans. She had fallen twice already but only to her knees. Then after walking – or stumbling – for an hour, she had fallen headlong into a muddy puddle.

That had pushed her over the edge and she had begun to sob uncontrollably. Her morale was at rock bottom and her body was struggling to keep up with all the abuse of the past couple of weeks. The only thing that prevented her from just giving up and curling into a ball to die, was a nine-year-old boy that deep in her heart, she knew was still alive.

Somewhere, somehow, they would be reunited again.

* * *

 _This storyline continues in the latter portion of_ **Chapter 326: Stormtide** _of_ **Forsaken**.


	20. Jamie

**Author's Note:** _This is the continuation of the storyline from_ **Chapter 326: Stormtide** _of_ **Forsaken** _and_ **Chapter 19: Capture** _of_ **Predator** _._

* * *

 ** _That afternoon  
Tuesday, September 13th, 2016_**

 ** _Scorpio Special Projects Division_**

Jamie had struggled through the previous week.

He had missed Shannon more than he knew. The pain inside him had been enough to keep him awake at night, crying through the night time hours. Daytime, though, had not been much better than the night. He had seen no one. No one had visited him. He had long given up yelling for somebody. Yelling for Shannon. His companion had been everything to him – but now she was gone; possibly for ever.

The highlight of each day had been the food arriving, and his slop bucket being taken away. He couldn't abide the stench of his own shit languishing in a bucket only a few feet away for hours at a time. He had exercised to while away the time but even that was getting boring. Then, after about a week, there had been a commotion outside his tiny cell and then the door had been opened. Without a word, a man had reached in and seized Jamie, almost throwing him down a corridor.

..._...

Jamie found himself pushed into a large square room with a dark wood floor and similarly coloured wood in panel form on the walls.

At almost the same time, a little girl of maybe eight-years-old was thrown into the room. She fell to the floor with a scream but got back to her feet rather smartly. The girl was scruffy and her expression fierce. Jamie watched in horror as the little girl was stripped down to her knickers before a woman started to beat her with a leather tawse, taking it across the little girl's bare legs, arms, and back as the girl stood frozen to the spot in abject terror, screaming out at each strike.

"You little bitch – we know you had something to do with it; you're a devious little shit," the woman yelled as she berated the girl.

Jamie yelled out for the woman to stop, which she did, but then she turned on Jamie who was unceremoniously stripped of his own clothes down to his underwear and beaten just the same until he passed out from the pain. His last sight of the girl was one of her sobbing in a ball on the floor.

..._...

When Jamie awoke, he found himself back in his cell, shivering with the cold. His clothes were scattered all around him. He struggled to move – each movement causing him immense pain. Very slowly, he pulled on his clothing and then huddled in a corner to keep warm. He knew that he was losing the will to resist and he was on the verge of giving up completely. He had no idea how much time had passed since he had been taken – days, weeks, or was it merely hours?

He worried about Shannon – what was happening to her? Had she gotten away – or was she lying somewhere dying? His mind was filling with dark thoughts and his rampant imagination was not helping. He tried to focus on happier moments, but that same rampant imagination kept morphing those moments into darker thoughts. He kept seeing Shannon dead – was it a premonition, or was it an event which had already occurred? Who was the little girl who was so viciously beaten? He had seen the older bruises and marks on her body – it was most definitely _not_ her first beating.

His measly daily meal was brought to him by somebody new that day. It was a young girl, of maybe twelve years. She had long blonde hair and very pale skin. Her face showed signs of recent bruising and her body language indicated somebody whose will had been broken. Either way, Jamie trusted nobody – except maybe for that little girl. He jumped up, kicking the bowl of thin soup at the girl who screamed as she fell backwards. He bolted out of the door but he barely made it six feet as the girl ran after him and then kicked him to the floor.

Jamie tried to fight but he had lost the will to resist and instead, he just curled himself into a ball of self-preservation and he cried as the girl kicked and punched him. Then he heard a new voice.

"Amber! That's enough!"

The kicking and punching stopped as Jamie heard yet another new voice – a female voice full of venom.

"Take the little bastard back to his cell – no food for two days. He _will_ learn, or he _will_ die."

..._...

Later that same evening, Jamie had picked up sounds of frantic activity – he had also heard gunfire. What was happening? Had Shannon found help? Was he about to be rescued?

He pulled on his shoes and moved to listen at the door, ready to move should an opportunity arise. He had no real idea where he was in the building, nor what the building was, nor where the building was. Intel-wise, he knew fuck all! Then he heard footsteps approaching his cell and he moved to one side of the door, lying in wait for whomsoever might open the door.

He heard the bolts pulled back and then the door to his cell swung open and he found himself face to face with the Amber girl. He struck her, full force, in the stomach. She tried to say something to him, but he never heard a word as he kicked her in the face putting her out on the floor. In her limp right hand, she held a compact SIG Sauer pistol which Jamie rapidly appropriated as he ran down the corridor.

He had no idea where he was headed, so he just ran, looking for any way out.

* * *

 ** _The first floor_**

 ** _Psyche and Foxtail_**

Psyche moved slowly, placing each foot carefully down one in front of the other.

The SIG Sauer MPX-K was held in both hands, butt to her right shoulder, pointed out ahead of her. There was every chance that she might come face to face with an enemy with little to no warning. There was also the possibility of coming across _Predators_ who she knew might not allow themselves to be turned. She knew their training and she knew that they would shoot first given the chance – well, she might in their shoes. News about Shadow and Hal rescuing a _Predator_ , earlier that afternoon had been most welcome. It also indicated that there might be others.

"Hit Girl, Psyche – nothing so far. . ."

 _"Be careful – there be nutcases out there."_

"Yeah – like me!"

 _"So, you see my point?"_

"Funny, Hit Girl – we'll talk about your sense of humour when I get back. . ."

Her adoptive mother was getting funnier, or should that be 'creepier', as the days passed by, Psyche thought sardonically with a glance over to her partner, Foxtail, who just shook her head in disdain having heard the entire exchange.

* * *

 **Primary Rendezvous Point**

 **Vengeance Command Van: Cyclone**

"Crap!"

"Come again?" Q asked.

"I'm getting some CCTV from within Site B but I don't like what I'm seein'!" Hal replied.

"Not good. . ." Q acknowledged as he peered across at Hal's screen.

"Attack Force, Hal. We have a situation on the first floor, over towards the north-east section of the house. Looks like two kids being beaten."

"Copy that!" came the grave tone of Hit Girl.

* * *

 ** _The First Floor_**

 ** _Psyche and Foxtail_**

The two veteran _Predators_ took off at a run, knowing that they were not far from that section of the building.

They both skidded to a halt in a large square area with a polished dark wood floor and polished dark wood panelling around the walls. There were a set of matching double doors set into the panelling opposite them. Either side of the doorway stood an armed guard – well, they _were_ standing until each guard received a bullet in the head. Both girls listened intently to the sounds coming from the other side of the doorway – they were _not_ good sounds. A girl's scream could be heard, plus the yell from another child, maybe a boy.

"You ready, Foxy?"

"Stupid question!"

Foxtail gently turned the door handle and just as gently, she eased the right-hand door open, pushing the door away from her. Psyche was close behind, her weapon raised. They both froze at the scene unfolding before them.

..._...

All attentions were on two kids, centre-stage, who were, despite the attack on the building, undergoing a beating. One was a girl, she was maybe twelve-years-old and she was lying on the floor, her hands protecting her head as a woman swung what looked to be a leather tawse across the girl's body. What skin was visible showed vicious welts. The white T-shirt which the girl wore, was ripped and torn with blood clearly in evidence. Not far away from the girl, a smaller shape – a boy, of indeterminate age was also being similarly beaten by a man.

Psyche dropped the woman while Foxtail dropped the man – each with a single shot to the head. Three armed guards quickly sprang into action, taking cover before they could be shot down. The scene descended into pandemonium almost immediately as the boy grabbed the girl and they huddled together avoiding the gunfire as the armoured Psyche and Foxtail attacked the guards. Foxtail attempted to move towards the huddling kids but each time, the boy would pull the girl further away from Foxtail until it was far too dangerous for Foxtail to execute a rescue.

"Fuck!" Foxtail yelled as a bullet from one of the guards narrowly missed her head during the latest attempt to get close to the girl. "They don't want to be rescued – at least not by us; stupid twats!

"Let's just kill the damn guards and then we can talk some sense into them," Psyche suggested as she sent another three-round burst towards a guard, dropping him like a sack of potatoes.

The next guard fell to Foxtail as his head was spread over several yards of panelling. Foxtail turned towards the two kids but as she did so, the boy grabbed up a pistol from a fallen guard and he shot Foxtail three times in the chest.

"Not a fucking 'gain!" she growled angrily as her armour absorbed most of the impact energy but she fell to one knee nonetheless.

"Still hurts, huh?" Psyche queried – the response from Foxtail was _very_ unladylike!

The young girl was dragged to her feet by the boy and both kids vanished through a door at the far end of the room. Psyche and Foxtail quickly finished off the remaining guard before they ran after the two escaping kids.

"A young boy and an older girl – running," Foxtail radioed. "The dumb fuckers are seeing us as enemies, too."

..._...

As Psyche approached a corner in the corridor, she slowed and stopped with her back to the wall, the corner to her left. She listened . . . there was something there; she was certain that somebody was there. The ten-year-old vigilante did not dare make a sound, but she knew that her communications were on VOX, so any contact she made would be heard by all. She signalled Foxtail of what she had found and her friend took up a covering position.

After taking a deep breath, Psyche stepped around the corner, her MPX-K up but at first, she saw nobody before she felt a stinging pain in her left kidney and then the MPX-K was ripped from her hands and it fell to the floor. Psyche also felt one of her pistols being removed from her left holster and she smiled beneath her mask as she found herself facing the girl and the boy – the girl held the pistol, pointed directly at her masked face.

The boy was doing the same with his recently appropriated pistol.

..._...

Psyche studied her two adversaries.

The girl was taller than Psyche, older too. Psyche's practiced eye noticed the amateur stance and the equally amateur way in which the girl held the pistol. She was not a major threat – nor was she a _Predator_ , that was plainly obvious. At that moment, Foxtail came around the corner and she stood just behind Psyche, her own MPX-K raised to her shoulder.

"Go!" the boy yelled, shoving the girl behind him.

The girl turned and bolted for the doorway at the far end of the passageway.

"I've got the girl!" Foxtail called out just as the boy shot her in the chest. "Quit shooting me, you little fuck!"

Foxtail was gone, leaving Psyche with the boy who appeared confused – presumably wondering why he hadn't just been gunned down. Psyche studied the boy; she was facing a much shorter adversary than normal. He was just a kid. He was about four inches shorter than Psyche and somehow, there was something about him that seemed familiar – somebody from her past, she assumed. The lighting in the corridor was not good, but she could make out that his light brown hair was unkempt, just like the hair for most other young boys. The fact that he had disarmed her so easily meant that he was _Urban Predator_. The boy moved in to attack having figured out that bullets were no use against his armoured adversaries and he had shoved the pistol into the back of his trousers.

Psyche easily fended off his kicks and she quickly moved to the defensive in a flash. She had an urgent decision to make; she could kill the boy – pretty easily she thought, or she could take him down and try to turn him. Ultimately, that choice might not be hers to make – if he chose to die, then so be it. Psyche returned the kicks and she caught the boy in the chest which sent him flying back against the wall, but the boy caught himself and he quickly sprang back to his feet.

Psyche was impressed.

* * *

 **Primary Rendezvous Point**

 **Cyclone**

"Hit Girl, Hal – that boy she's fighting, I know it's a fucking longshot, but I'll bet my Toughbook on it being _him_. . ."

"You _absolutely_ certain?"

In hindsight, she _had_ to be certain – Abby would never bet her Toughbook on anything!

"Facial rec. is at seventy-eight percent - the video image is shit, but yeah. . ."

* * *

 ** _The First Floor_**

 ** _Psyche and Rage_**

The girl was good, the boy thought.

She was obviously somebody who had received training very similar to his own – could she have been _Urban Predator_. He had disarmed her easily, but she had responded with force which he had not anticipated. He was pleased that Amber had been able to escape, but that other armoured bitch was after her. Why had they not just shot them both – after all, he had shot the bitch a total of four times! He studied his adversary. She wore full body armour which covered her body completely from head to toe – no skin was visible. He clocked the Sai in her right boot, then another in her other boot. Size-wise, she was short, not all that much taller than he was. She could only have been about eighteen-months or so older than himself.

Rage was not all that certain that he could take her but he would give it his all and he would kill her.

..._...

The boy ducked as a punch was aimed at his face.

"Fucking Yank pussy!" he growled.

The armour-clad girl braced up as Rage spoke, then she snarled back at him.

"I am no fucking Yank – talk about an insult; I'm British, thank you very much."

"That makes two of us," Rage replied, a little surprised – he had considered the armour-clad attackers to be working for the CIA as their electronically enhanced voices had an American lilt to them.

" _Urban Predator_?"

"What would you know about that, sweetheart?"

"I am _nobody's_ sweetheart, wanker!"

"A mouth as foul as your fanny; bet it's seen plenty of action, for a slut like you. . ."

Psyche rolled her eyes behind her mask as she responded to the boy.

"Distraction – use verbal insults to distract your opponent and put them off-guard . . . yeah, I done the same course. . . _Urban Predator_ is dead, you know. I took it apart, piece by fucking piece; I killed that horse-faced bitch, plus that other one – Hirsch. . ."

"Did they abandon you, too?"

"Kind of, but I saw the light. . . I resigned, sort of, before I destroyed them. What's your name?"

..._...

Hit Girl was in the next corridor, having run hard to find her daughter. She was allowing the fight to play out, when she heard the reply to Psyche's question.

"Jamie Carter, you?"

Hal was right . . . as usual!

Despite the relatively civilised conversation, the kids – actually, siblings – still exchanged blows as they conversed. During a conversation, earlier that evening, Psyche had been warned by her mother not to lower her guard if she identified her brother – there was no reason for him to not see her as a threat and kill her.

"Stephanie Walker; I hear I'm famous in your world. . ."

"Psyche. . ." the boy exclaimed. "You're a fucking traitor!"

Hit Girl ran forwards and she peeked around the corner in time to see the boy pull his pistol just as Psyche pulled her second pistol from its holster and they both aimed their respective muzzles at each other.

"You have a codename?"

"They call me 'Rage'."

"Hello, Rage – I am _no_ traitor; I saw what they were doing, and I put an end to it all. . ."

"You are a traitor and I must kill you . . . maybe if I do, they'll take me back."

"There _is_ no going back, Jamie. . ." Psyche paused for a moment before she continued in a more subdued tone. "Jamie . . . James . . . it's you . . ."

..._...

Psyche heard Hit Girl in her ear.

"It's him, Steph. . ."

Psyche felt so much relief at finally coming face to face with her long-lost brother. The hard part was convincing him of who she was and that he was safe. She turned to the boy, his pistol still aimed at her head. The build was about right, as were the brown eyes; if it were him, he would be. . .

"How old are you, Jamie?"

"Nine, just last a week back."

"I'm ten and the last time we saw each other, I was seven and you were five."

"Impossible – I killed my family. . ."

"No, _I_ did that; but then they conned me . . . they made me think that I had killed _you_. . . They made me think that I had killed my brother. I had no idea that you had become a Yellow."

" _You_ are my sister?"

Psyche took a chance and she trusted in Hit Girl. She had to; it was her greatest wish in the world to have her brother back. She reached up to her mask and she deactivated the voice synthesizer.

"Yes, I am your sister and you are pointing a pistol in my face."

The boy hesitated and he Psyche saw his expression change as he heard a real voice – a voice from his past.

"So are you. . ."

Psyche raised her pistol, released the magazine and ejected the single round from the breech. She dropped the empty pistol to the floor along with the magazine and then she held up the single round.

"I fired off three of these, thinking that I had killed Mum, Dad, and then you. . . Those bastards fucked with me and then they fucked with you. . . But if you want to kill me, go ahead."

"I have to . . . my training; you are a traitor to our country."

"Fuck that, we survived their experiment."

"I have to."

..._...

Psyche pulled off her mask as she grabbed the barrel of the Glock and she placed the muzzle against her forehead.

"Pull the damn trigger, if you've got the bloody balls for it. . ."

The boy had tears streaming down his face as he fought against his training, his indoctrination, everything that he had known for the past three or so years of his short life.

"Fucking pull the trigger!" Psyche yelled angrily as she stared into the boy's eyes and the boy flinched slightly.

Hit Girl saw the muzzle waver slightly and then the finger as it tightened on the trigger.

"You are a wimpy little fuck – you _couldn't_ be my brother; he would have _way_ more guts than you. He had a backbone too. . ."

Hit Girl saw the flicker of anger on the boy's face at those barbed comments.

"But I have nobody . . . I have nowhere to go."

Psyche's expression softened as she felt pity for her brother and her heart went out to him. Her reply was full of love as she spoke.

"James, I have a family; I have a Mum and a Dad now – that means that _you_ have a Mum and a Dad now, too."

That was something that Hit Girl had not considered . . . Hit Girl saw tears forming in Stephanie's eyes as the young girl spoke and she allowed them to fall unimpeded down her cheeks.

"Please, Jamie – come back to me. . . If you feel that you have to kill me, then do so but please, let me spend the last minute of my life with my little brother. . ."

..._...

The two siblings stood there for several moments, and they just stared at each other.

Neither had seen the other for well over three years and both had grown quite a bit in that time. Stephanie had been seven-years-old and Jamie had only been five-years-old. Now, they were ten-years-old and nine-years-old, respectively. After another short hesitation, Jamie lowered his pistol and he followed his sister's example as he ejected the magazine and the loaded round before he dumped the pistol onto the floor beside the other pistol. He took a few steps backwards, away from his sister, unsure of what to do.

After a few more moments, they finally moved towards one another and curiosity soon gave out and they both ran forwards and hugged each other tightly. The intense sobbing from both children could be heard from where Hit Girl stood but she did not want to intrude; she did not want to move any closer. But then she felt the reassuring hands of Kick-Ass as he appeared behind her and Hit Girl struggled to control her own emotions at the sight before her. She had no idea what the two kids were feeling right at that moment, but it was also at that moment that she suddenly realised with a jerk that she and Dave now had _four_ kids.

After what seemed like an age, but was actually mere minutes, the siblings broke apart and Stephanie led her brother towards Hit Girl.

"Jamie, this is Dave and Mindy; they are _my_ Mum and Dad, which means that they are now _your_ Mum and Dad, too."

The boy was very young and he looked very scared; Mindy could see him gripping his big sister's hand tightly.

"Hello, Jamie," Mindy said as she crouched down to his height and pulled off her mask. "I'm Mindy – do you want to go somewhere you can call home?"

The boy nodded as he looked up at Dave who had also removed his mask and Mindy stood back up. Jamie held out his right hand; his left was locked very firmly onto his sister's right.

"If Steph says you're okay, then you're okay," he said quietly.

Stephanie was smiling and she looked _so_ happy.

* * *

 _That was to be the end of _**Predator** _, only I felt like being a bastard and I thought we needed a vicious twist to the final plot! Therefore, you have gained a BONUS CHAPTER. The story continues in _**Chapter 21: A Bonus Twist** _of_ **Predator**.


	21. A Bonus Twist

**_Tuesday, September 13th, 2016_**

 ** _Scorpio Special Projects Division_**

 ** _First Floor_**

 _Stephanie was smiling and she looked_ so _happy._

Then her smile vanished as the sound of heavy gunfire erupted not too far away from the little group.

"We've got this!" Hit Girl growled as she pulled her mask back on.

"Both of you head in that direction," Kick-Ass ordered, pointing in the opposite direction, _away_ from the gunfire.

Psyche, her mask in place, swept up her weapons and then grabbed Jamie with her left hand and they ran. She pushed through a doorway and stopped to get her bearings. Her mind told her that there was a staircase heading down about seventy feet ahead and on the right. She pulled Jamie forwards but then she froze.

"What a cheery sight that was, Jamie," a voice sneered. "What is it, your girlfriend?"

Jamie's expression gave him away.

"Sister . . . so, you have a sister . . . well, if you do not wish to join me, then perhaps, she will. . ."

"Fuck you!" Jamie spat.

Psyche could do nothing – six men had materialised as if out of nowhere and they were all armed.

"You move, girl – he fucking dies. Your admittedly impressive armour will not protect _him_. Unmask her!"

One of the underlings stepped forwards and he reached for the base of Psyche's mask. He got the shock of his life – literally! The man jumped back holding his hand which was shaking.

"Oh, very good!" Fraser laughed as Psyche seethed.

* * *

 ** _Hit Girl and Kick-Ass_**

 ** _First Floor_**

 _"Hit Girl, flash message from Spook – CTC is inbound in two helicopters with Commander SO15. They have been appraised of our presence – they will see us as friendlies empowered by the Home Office,"_ Q called over the encrypted communications.

"That's _all_ we need!" Hit Girl growled. "Arrange for Nemesis to go meet him and I'll get there when I can."

 _"Copy that!"_ Q replied. _"Break!_ Twilight _, be advised, you will have traffic at your three o'clock in four minutes – two inbound helicopters flying without lights. They will call on one-one-three-decimal-four-two."_

 _"Thanks, Q – will keep a lookout,"_ Scorpion replied.

* * *

 ** _Outside_**

Right on cue, the pair of AS365N3+ helicopters entered the area.

Both were jet black and flying without lights. Each helicopter flew low, just above the trees.

 _"_ Twilight _, this is_ Charlie Flight _, we are a flight of two, callsigns: Charlie One and Charlie Two. We have you at our two o'clock high. We are descending to land to the front of the main house and will then pick up a two-mile orbit at two-thousand, over."_

"Charlie flight, _Twilight_. Go ahead: area is clear. We are orbiting at one-thousand, over."

 _"Copy. Charlie out."_

As Scorpion and the Chief watched, the two black helicopters dropped down and landed one at a time, sixty feet from the front of the main building. Twelve passengers disembarked from each helicopter before both aircraft took off and began to orbit two miles away from the house at two-thousand feet giving the ominously-armed _Twilight_ priority closest to the main building.

Scorpion watched as the armed passengers spread out and their leader was greeted by Nemesis.

* * *

 ** _First Floor_**

William Fraser walked around Psyche, examining her armour in detail.

"I'm impressed, little girl. You fancy yourself a fighter, do you? The Sai is a difficult weapon to master. I assume that you are one of these _Predators_ , too? I can help you understand your skills and I can help you put them to good use."

"I saw what you did to me and my friend. She was kept as a prisoner, just as I was," Rage retorted angrily.

"You do understand that if you do not come with me, Jamie, then neither of you are leaving this place . . . _alive_?"

"If any one of us is dying, it will be you, you old bastard!" Rage retorted and Psyche felt intense pride in her brother's courage.

Fraser gripped Psyche by her right shoulder and the young girl struggled to control the pain which lanced through her body. Fraser had noticed the change in body language, even if he could not see her face. With an evil smile, he squeezed again, eliciting an electronically enhanced scream of agony. Rage looked up at his sister in surprise and with concern in his eyes. Fraser made to squeeze again but Psyche seized his wrist with her left hand and _she_ squeezed, causing Fraser to release her shoulder, wincing with pain as he did so. The man stood back from his mini adversaries and he studied them for a moment before coming to a decision.

"Bring them!" he ordered.

Rage was seized by two men, as was Psyche.

* * *

 ** _Ground Floor  
Main Entrance_**

"Good evening. _Vengeance_ , am I right?"

Nemesis took the proffered hand and she shook it.

"Nemesis . . . and yes, I am a senior member of _Vengeance_."

"Commander Haig, SO15 – you appear to be having some fun here, this evening, Nemesis."

"Hit Girl is a little busy, but I can escort you inside and your men can take over the site – our mission is almost complete."

* * *

 ** _First Floor_**

Hit Girl and Kick-Ass were in a major gunfight.

Somehow, fresh gunmen had appeared in the building – they had pinned down Jackal and Stripe. Caught in the crossfire, Foxtail was using her armour to protect a young girl who was huddled beneath her. In her headset, Hit Girl could hear snatches of conversation – she recognised Jamie's voice, then Psyche's scream of pain. The decision was easy, but very painful; she had to support her team, but her heart was with her daughter. The needs of the many had to outweigh the needs of the few . . . for the moment.

"Command, Nemesis – I'm making for Psyche with elements of Assault Force Two and Three!"

Hit Girl felt relief but she wished she could be there, although she trusted her teams, including _Vengeance_.

* * *

 ** _Twilight_**

The orbiting was starting to get boring, plus fuel was soon going to be an issue.

 _"Scorpion – we have an alert call from Shadow. Sending you vectors now."_

"Copy new vectors, Hal. Leaving orbit now and making for Shadow. Will confirm ETA en-route."

 _"Go have fun, Scorpion!"_

* * *

 ** _Elements of Assault Force Two and Three_**

 ** _First Floor_**

Nemesis was accompanied by Polaris, Prowl, Glide, Fury, and Rigour.

The six vigilantes were running hard as they made for Psyche's last known location. It did not take them long to find the corridor and then an open space. It was the correct space, too, as Fury held up an MPX-K assault rifle and a SIG Sauer P225-A1 pistol. Rigour held up a Sai in each hand. Nemesis knew she had to report it – but she hated doing it. From a plus side, it was over the comms . . . and not face to face with Hit Girl.

"Command, Nemesis – Psyche and Rage are missing. We . . . we have Psyche's weapons. . ."

 _"Hit Girl copies."_

The response was short and very cold.

"Let's go!" Nemesis ordered and the team ran down the corridor.

* * *

 ** _Psyche and Rage  
With William Fraser_**

Psyche was trying to find a way of escaping Fraser without hurting Rage.

The bastard had demonstrated his resolve by pistol whipping Rage around the face, leaving a vicious red mark which would, over time, turn into a vicious bruise. Psyche had retained her mask which at least protected her identity, as well as providing protection for her head. Each man carried an automatic weapon as well as a large knife. The six men remained close to their principal, Fraser, as well as to the captured children.

They had been taken down a short passageway and then through a small doorway which Psyche had not seen before and which appeared to merge into the surrounding white-painted panelling. As she had passed through the door, she had made a point of punching the panelling before she had been shoved, very roughly, through into an adjoining corridor. After descending a set of stairs, Psyche was very surprised to find herself outside. The sounds of battle were still easily audible around them, indicating that the night's action was far from over.

Psyche made a hard choice and she quickly decided that she needed to delay things. To Rage's surprise, he was struck, hard in the back by his sister and the bewildered boy fell to his knees.

"You are fucking worthless!" Psyche growled at the stunned Rage. "I should have fucking left you – now _I_ am caught up in your fucked up whatever it is with this tight-arsed bastard!"

Fraser spun around to observe the fight. At first, he was amazed but then his lip curled as he saw his charges bickering.

"I did nothing – I thought you were here to help me?" Rage retorted having caught onto what his sister was playing at. "I thought you were my sister and that we were going to stay together."

"I don't think finding you was worth it, James. I was better off thinking you were dead."

..._...

A few dozen yards away, five sets of feet approached stealthily.

Ahead of them, they could hear an argument – a young boy's voice and the electronically enhanced voice of a vigilante.

"We need to move – shut the fuck up, you're both fucking worthless as far as I am concerned!"

They all recognised _that_ voice and they moved faster, closing the distance fast before they slowed to spread out around the tight grouping of targets. As they watched, they could see a young boy, lying on the ground, and Psyche berating him from above.

The men never knew what hit them as the four _Predators_ attacked as one, with Nemesis in support.

..._...

Electra had talked with her friend, just a few short hours before. Electra had told Stephanie that she never wanted to kill again. Only, she was wise enough to know that a time would come when she would have no choice but to kill. There was but one person in the world which she would kill for, and that was Stephanie Lizewski.

Psyche, while berating her brother, was keeping a wary eye on her surroundings. Her show had taken the attention of the six men, as well as Fraser. Then, her keen eyes detected movement and she recognised Rigour moving towards Fraser. A similar shadow came up behind each of three men, with the fourth man picking up a larger shadow. Psyche nodded towards Rigour as she dove on top of her brother, almost crushing the youngster.

William Fraser yelled out in agony as Rigour drove her eight-inch knife deep into his side catching internal organs as she twisted the blade with all her strength. The man sagged to his knees searching for help from his men, but his astonished eyes saw four of his men dropping to their own knees. Two of them had visible steel emerging from their chests and blood splashing down their fronts. The remaining two men had barely been able to react to the rapid change in circumstances when Rigour threw two items through the air at Psyche, who deftly caught a Sai in each gauntlet as she stood up before she spun around and drove each razor-sharp point into the hearts of the two gunmen who were just about to fire their weapons.

Nemesis smiled as she keyed her communications.

"Psyche and Rage are safe . . . repeat Psyche and Rage are safe!"

Psyche pulled her brother back to his feet and she looked around at her fellow _Predators_. Each of whom stood there before her, blood dripping from their combat knives.

"Thanks, guys!" Psyche growled with a nod at Nemesis.

..._...

The sound of running feet had each of them spinning around to face the next threat. Psyche visibly relaxed as she saw Hit Girl running towards her from one direction, and a group of black-clad men in body armour and helmets approaching from the other. Nemesis stepped in quickly and she prevented any of the black-clad men from getting shot by the over-eager _Predators_.

"I thought that I had seen everything," Commander Haig announced as he stopped and studied the seven prone forms and the masked, armour-clad youngsters with the bloody knives who stood over their kills. "I saw the execution of that rescue and I have to say that I was enormously impressed."

Hit Girl nodded.

"Thank you – I, too, was very impressed," she added as she looked upon her daughter with barely concealed relief.

..._...

Hit Girl noticed something strange in the body language of Rigour as the young girl and her friends had left the scene and headed towards the rendezvous point.

"What's up, Rigour?"

Rigour stopped and she hesitated before she turned to look up at Hit Girl.

"That voice – I recognised it from somewhere . . . but I can't really remember where from."

"What voice?"

"That policeman."

"Commander Haig?"

"Him – funny he has the same name, huh?"

"Yeah. . ." Hit Girl mused. "Hal – I need a discrete channel!"

 _"Go ahead, Hit Girl."_

"I want you to run a check for me, please – I want to know all about Commander Haig's family and I need it now!"

 _"Copy that!"_

..._...

Ten minutes later, after an in-depth conversation with Hal, Hit Girl sought out the Commander with Rigour, Psyche, and Rage (he wouldn't leave his sister's side) in tow. She found the man on the upper floor of the main building and she motioned the three kids to wait beside the sweeping staircase that led below.

"Commander, may I have two minutes in private?"

"Of course, Hit Girl."

The two of them entered one of the rooms which was empty. Hit Girl turned to the Commander.

"May I ask you a personal question, Commander?"

"Just don't expect a personal answer!"

"Tell me about your family – you have a son, I believe?"

"Yes – Edward. He is currently in a coma and he has been for a number of years. His family was attacked. His wife was killed, his teenaged son lives with me, but he still bears the scars from that attack to this day. His daughter, my granddaughter was taken – I have no idea where she is or even if she is still alive. My dearest Electra, she was the soul of that family. I miss her so very much and I would do anything to have her back with me."

"Thank you for your candour, Commander. Maybe I can make your dream come true. Have you ever heard of a program called: _Urban Predator_?"

"No."

"I am about to let you in on some very dirty laundry that both your country and mine, amongst others, intend to keep secret and buried . . ."

Hit Girl explained on for several minutes and she watched Commander Haig's expressions which showed anger, intrigue, horror, and finally sorrow.

"You mean my Electra was taken and inducted into that heinous abortion?"

Hit Girl's silence spoke volumes.

"Those kids in the body armour?"

Hit Girl nodded.

"Rigour!" she called out.

* * *

Primary Rendezvous Point

Half a mile to the east

Shannon and her father were patrolling around the parked vehicles, keeping them safe.

The teenage girl's emotions were yo-yoing and she was still struggling to see everything around her as real and not some cruel dream. She expected to wake up at any moment in her cell – another day and the rest of her life ahead of her as a plaything for Fraser and his men. She could not believe that she was standing with her father in a copse, in the dead of night, defending a rendezvous point with automatic weapons. The last time she had spent time with her father, she had been nine-years-old and instead of an automatic weapon, she would have probably had a Barbie doll in her hands.

She almost missed the _crack_ which was emitted by some careless clot as they stepped on a loose twig. Stormtide lifted her assault rifle to her shoulder, her father mirroring her action – he had heard the same sound.

"Command, Primary RV is under attack!" Astute radioed.

Inside _Cyclone_ , Hal and Q checked their weapons and combat suits prior to returning to their activities. It was not the first time for either of them – coming under attack; they were both veterans - a very reluctant veteran as far as Q was concerned.

..._...

Astute moved forwards, signally his daughter to move out and to come around from the left while he flanked to the right. It was a novel experience for him, fighting alongside his daughter. He knew her training. He knew everything that she would know. He knew that she was highly-skilled – she had to be to have survived as long as she had. He knew that his daughter was a killer; he had witnessed the girl take two lives like they were nothing. How could he have allowed her to endure five years of hell? His lovely little girl had been so innocent – yet she had turned into a killer who could dispatch a life with barely a moment's thought.

A few yards away, his daughter moved silently, flanking the approaching enemy from the left – then she froze. Astute did the same, picking up his daughter's signals – she had seen something. Stormtide was the first to open fire and, it seemed, she was spot on as yells were heard from the target zone and bodies began to fall. Astute ran forwards, under the cover of Stormtide's gunfire. He found two men moving ahead of him – both died as he fired a three-round burst into each man. He moved towards his daughter to find three bodies at her feet as she scanned the surrounding trees for any more gunmen.

"Very good, Shannon – I'm impressed."

"Thanks, Daddy."

* * *

 ** _The Main House_**

 ** _First Floor_**

Commander Haig watched as one of the armoured vigilantes whom he had seen kill earlier, entered the room.

His mind began to add things up. She was about the right size. She would be nine-years-old. The young girl carried a single pistol on her right hip and there was a large knife in a scabbard on her left thigh. The Commander could see blood on the body armour and there was dried blood around the scabbard of the knife. He had also seen the very girl with a bloody knife in her hand, mere minutes previously. The young girl was a killer, no doubt about that.

The young girl hesitated as she approached and she stopped beside Hit Girl. Despite the mask, it was obvious that she was extremely nervous. Commander Patrick Haig felt the same way as he considered what was about to happen.

"Commander Haig – please meet your granddaughter, Electra."

Hit Girl reached over and she deactivated the anti-lift on Electra's mask. She then lifted the mask clear of the shaking girl's head to reveal a young girl, her short brown hair soaked in sweat. Commander Haig's face went from one of sorrow and anticipation to one of immense happiness and tears spilled from his eyes.

"Grandpa?" Electra whispered.

That was all it took; just one solitary word.

The young girl bolted forwards and she jumped into the Commander's arms, wrapping her legs around his waist. Both were crying with happiness as they hugged. Finally, after several minutes, they split apart but Electra was holding on tightly to her grandfather's hand.

Electra had the biggest smile imaginable on her tear-streaked face.

..._...

There was a knock on the door and Hit Girl turned to see Psyche.

"One of the Commander's men is here," she called over.

Electra quickly pulled on her mask and the Commander took control of his emotions before the man came in.

"Yes, Sergeant?"

"Sir – the body of William Fraser . . . it's gone."

* * *

 _That really is the end of _**Predator** _. The story continues in_ **Chapter 328: So Many Changes** _of_ **Forsaken** _and simultaneously in_ **Chapter 24: Family** _of_ **Vengeance**.


End file.
